Growing Gracefully
by hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: Alfred and Arthur tackle parenthood, and so much more. Hospital Flowers sequel.
1. Prologue

Let me just say this right now: I am irrevocably and madly in love with Alfred Jones.

However, that's not always the case. Sometimes Alfred could really rile me up to the point I shooed him from the house or just walked home without him if we were out in downtown L.A. It wasn't always the brightest of ideas for me to be on my own given that I was a real celebrity in the city, but sometimes it was either deal with paparazzi or deal with Alfred. And when I came _that_ close to belting him in the nose, it was the paparazzi every time.

Alfred and I met two years ago by sheer accident; literally. I was in a four car pile-up on the highway, and Alfred was my savior when he pulled me out of my car. Both of my legs had suffered minor fractures that required me to be in a wheelchair for almost four months. During that time, Alfred took the initiative to ask me out.

Here's the part where I say it's been smooth sailing ever since. Well, quite frankly, it hasn't. Not because of us, but rather, the outside forces that make every day a trial. Alfred is a firefighter, so his life is constantly on the line. That alone makes me fret with worry through-out the day, and sometimes well into the night if he's called in for a midnight emergency. Even two years later I dread that morning kiss or that evening hug will be our last.

The other factor being that I was thrust into the LGBT spotlight ever since my _Hospital Flowers_ novella came out two years ago. I'm not much of a spokesperson, and yet the media loves to eat me up. Well, Alfred and I up. Whether it be bad (a fight in public) or good (dancing at a private event), the media loved to paste our pictures on the front of the newspaper. And I became a hero and inspiration to many young homosexual and questioning teenagers all over America.

To say I didn't have my fair share of hardships while growing up and hiding my sexuality for ten years would be a life, but after seeing and hearing of these troubled children enduring rejection, ostracization, and considering suicide, I feel I have nothing left to complain about. The fact I kept it all a secret played a large part, that and my family disowned me the moment they learned I was snogging a man in my bedroom with my clothes off and his hand around my cock. There really was no good lie that could salvage that mess.

I could have backed out, I could have stepped down from this man-made pedestal, but the fact of the matter is I would feel like a coward. And really, what would I go back to being, a hermit author? Dates with Alfred and the occasional trip to see the other firemen where the only times I left the flat. Now, I had purpose. Now, I was somebody and I was _helping_. Just like Alfred I was doing some good in this world.

There were just some days I wanted to complain about this position when it got to be too invasive and far too tiring. Along with helping people came the blame. The blame that I turned someone's daughter into a lesbian, somehow influenced a boy to date his best friend, and "brainwashed" the youth of America into thinking it's okay to be gay. Well, to me, it's quite fine to be gay, or straight, or nothing at all, but most people don't think I'm that way. Most parents would love to point all the blame on me and use me as a scapegoat to say that I was some "super gay" focused on bringing American society to its knees.

Some days, you couldn't pay me to get out of bed.

I had fallen asleep sideways on the bed with my legs dangling over the side and my face pressed into the duvet. His coming home had awoken me, but I hadn't felt enough energy to move. I felt the bed dip beside me, and then a heavy arm was draped across my waist, pulling me close to a warm and firm chest. I snuggled close and relapsed into sleep.

When I awoke it was an hour later from when I remembered having fallen asleep. I turned my head to the side to look at the digital clock on the nightstand when I found Alfred sleeping beside me. Now he _is_ a beautiful sight indeed. His light gold hair, soft lips slightly parted, skewed glasses, and long lashes resting on tan cheeks. Lovely.

I tapped his nose. "Alfred. Love, wake up. We'll never sleep tonight if we don't get up."

Alfred stirred, snorted, and then opened his blue eyes. He smacked his lips until he melted into a yawn that turned into a loud and long stretch of his entire body. I just lie there and watched with an amused smirk.

"What were you doing sleeping?" I asked, running fingers through his hair.

Alfred finished his yawn and then turned to face me. He snuggled into the duvet, smiling all the while. I removed his glasses, placing them between us. "I came to sleep beside you right away."

"Why?"

"I don't like the idea of you sleeping alone."

Alfred grinned, like most Americans do, but Alfred's had a charm to his that made him stand out all the more. Of course I could just be biased.

"I got a phone call today," I started as I turned onto my side. I tried to sound casual, but I don't know how much Alfred thought I truly was or not. Alfred scooted closer and draped an arm over my waist. "It's for another interview."

"Oh yeah? For your new book?"

Alfred was always interested in my work, and read through each one with eager excitement. He was the first to receive a copy, always signed and dedicated to him, and would cry out in glee like a child. Sometimes he would come barging into the sitting room or where ever else I happened to be to ramble on about a particular part, declaring his love for one character and hatred for another, or come to me in shock and awe at a plot twist. He certainly was my number one fan.

I absently traced a finger along the lines of Alfred's palm, not meeting his eyes. "Mm… it's more about… _that_ book…"

"You mean _Hospital Flowers_?" Alfred asked. I nodded. "Well, that's okay, isn't it?"

Almost an entire year ago I had written a novella about when Alfred and I had met and fallen in love, titling it _Hospital Flowers_ as Alfred had enchanted me with that charm of his through flowers he brought me at the hospital. I had been involved in a four car pile-up that fractured both of my legs, putting me in a wheelchair for nearly four months. During that time, Alfred had wooed me with the fact he was the fireman that saved me, flowers, and, well let's face it, he's an amazing man.

One day he happened to save the life of my ex-boyfriend's daughter. The man is a senior journalist at the L.A. Times, and he had asked to do a cover story on Alfred's and my relationship. As it turned out, other newspapers saw this story and wanted to their cover interviews on us, and it spiraled out of control. I was asked to be on talk shows, in countless interviews, make appearances for LGBT meetings, and even agree for a made-for-TV movie to be created. In the end, I was asked to write a novella about my relationship, if only in hopes that it calmed everyone down.

It was nearly a year later and still I was getting asked to talk about it.

Thinking back to Alfred's question, I shrugged and sighed in irritation. "No matter what book I write, I will only be remembered for _that_ book."

Alfred frowned. "Is that so bad? Most authors are never recognized their entire career."

"Yes, but… I wish…" I struggled with my words, as I almost always did. I was a writer, but I had problems putting my thoughts into speech that made sense to more than just me. "I wish I could be seen for something more…"

It was a difficult scenario for me. On one hand I was happy to be so famous for my work, while on the other hand I was sour because it was a romance story about my meeting Alfred. And I had been pressured by my editors into writing a few too intimate scenes that I had originally not wanted to include. It all seemed so invasive and open. I was not one for others to know my private life.

"I just wish it wasn't about us," I said finally.

"You don't like how we met?" Alfred pouted.

I patted his face with a smile. "Of course not. I just feel this is too personal and want it to quiet down."

"Everyone loves a good romance story," Alfred commented. He took my hands in his. "Look, a new story will come and it'll be bigger than your best seller. But don't think on it, and it might come to you. And this will all settle down after awhile. Beside…"

Alfred kissed my forehead and then kept his lips against my skin, mumbling, "All the royalties from your book and the movies and those interviews give us enough money to save up for our baby."

I dissolved into giggles not fit for manly men. Burying my face into Alfred's shoulder, I smiled unabashedly. "Our baby girl! Yes…"

Alfred moved his head back in order to look at me. "We still need a name."

"I'm partial to Elizabeth," I said casually.

Alfred caught on quickly and frowned. "No names of Queens. We agreed to this."

"Fine, then none from First Ladies either," I countered. Alfred stuck his tongue out in reply.

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and tracing abstract patterns on Alfred's skin. I didn't think of names then, just my life after our baby was here. Changing diapers, rocking her to sleep, feeding her, and watching as she grew before my very eyes. And all of that would be with my beloved Alfred.

"What about Grace?" Alfred said suddenly. I turned, lifting my eyes to meet his. "You know, like Amazing Grace?"

I looked thoughtful before I broke into a grin. "I quite like that… Our little amazing Grace."

Alfred hummed into my ear as he nestled close. "Yeah… My mom's name. I've always liked it."

We were silent for a time, just letting the name sink in. We hadn't been allowed to see our baby girl yet as she hadn't been born yet. Her expected day to arrive was Wednesday and we had both taken the day off from work to be at the hospital for her birth.

"Not looking forward to all those diaper changes and late night cry fests," Alfred grumbled beside me.

I chuckled. "It'll pass. She'll be worth it. You'll see."

"Yeah… Hey!" Alfred rolled over to hover over me. "You never told me who is interviewing you."

I blushed and averted my eyes again, toying with the duvet once more. "Oh… Well… I have to go to New York…"

Alfred gasped sharply, sucking in his lips, and anxiously waiting for me to go on. I glanced at him, and then said, "It's The Today Show."

Alfred hollered so loudly you'd think it was him going on television and not me. He hugged me and began rolling around the bed with me. I was laughing, and Alfred was rambling, and it all seemed perfect.

"Come with me," I said when Alfred had calmed down.

"Well of course!" Alfred exclaimed. He kissed my nose. "We'll make a weekend of it."

I sighed. He was absolutely perfect. I kissed him affectionately, and he returned it. My dear, sweet, and lovely American.

We hadn't made it back to the hotel before Alfred's mother called us. We were sitting in a taxi, waiting for traffic to ease up so we could get back to our room. I was exhausted and extremely irritable.

When Alfred answered his phone, he had to hold the ear piece away from his ear as a loud voice yelled, "You're going to _adopt_?!"

I glared at Alfred in a way that most certainly conveyed my frustration at the fact he didn't even tell his own bloody mother.

He grimaced. "W-well I thought I told ya mom. Sorry… Artie's been dragging me all around L.A. gettin' baby clothes and toys."

"So it's my fault?" I hissed. "You're the idiot that blabbed it on national television, but forgot to tell your mum!"

Alfred winced at me, scooting further away from me in the taxi.

When Alfred's presence had been found out while I was on the talk show, he had been invited on set to do the interview with me. He was so anxious and excited he just "let it slip" that "we're gonna adopt". As if it was as natural a statement as the weather for the day. My mobile had exploded all with people wanting to know answers immediately. Alfred's innocent intentions had made it stressful for me suddenly.

Once back to the hotel, Alfred tried to reason with me. "They'd find out anyways. You're so popular in L.A., so it was bound to happen when they see ya tottin' a baby down central L.A.

When angry, Alfred's Boston accent became all the more apparent. Normally I melted at his way of speaking, but right now I was immune to it. I flopped on our bed with an agitated sigh. "Alfred… that's more of an invasion into our life."

"Not my fault you wrote that story," Alfred grumbled from his spot in the chair by the window.

It was such a lovely view, and normally I'd be in the chair with him overlooking Manhattan. We could even see the Empire State Building off in the distance glittering like a crown for the city. We'd probably whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears, pop open a bottle of wine, and then stay in bed for the rest of the day. However, my nerves had just snapped from Alfred's thoughtless words.

"It was _you_ who said it would be fine!" I argued.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I gave ya the full go ahead! It's your stupid book!"

I bolted up with fury in my eyes. "Stupid?! How dare you?!"

"How dare I?!" Alfred stood and pointed at me. It was mid-afternoon by now and the sun cast dark shadows across his face. "You invited me along! It's not my fault Katie asked me ta join ya on set!"

"But it is yours for blurting out about Grace!" I spat back.

"Well excuse me for bein' so God damn excited at havin' a baby with my fuckin' boyfriend!" Alfred roared.

That was a signal for us to stop yelling when our voices got so loud that we feared the neighbors could hear us. We were silent, and Alfred took his seat again with a loud moan, his face in his hands. I sat there and stared before my eyes shifted to the scenery outside.

For years I had wanted to be here for the very same reasons I was here now for. I was at the top of my game, renowned in the country for a bestselling author, and I was with the man I had vowed to spend the rest of my life with and would soon be raising a child with. There should never be a silly row that determined a relationship.

And that's all this was; silly. Neither of us ever hid the fact we're both quite stubborn. However, now this all just seemed so comical. We were arguing about something that seemed inconsequential now. Grace was only days away from being born, and even if the entire country knew of our plans, she was still coming into our lives. So why were we arguing?

I began to laugh, attracting Alfred's attention, and in a moment he too started laughing.

"Oh, we are right fools," I said after a time. I got up and finally joined Alfred in the chair beside him. "Let's stop this ridiculousness and go see the city."

Alfred broke into a smile and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Yeah. We need some pizza."

As we got ready to head back out into the hustle and bustle of the city, Alfred caught my wrist. "Babe, I'm sorry."

I blinked before smiling and pecking his lips. "As am I, love."

I'll say it again: I love Alfred F. Jones.

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: Hello and welcome to my new series! That's right, this is the sequel to _Hospital Flowers_! This series will focus on an OC character of mine being Alfred and Arthur's adopted daughter, Grace. No, she isn't the personification of a country; just going to put that out there now.

As a side note: The Today Show is a very popular news show in America that also focuses on interviews and popular stories.

I hope you enjoy and continue to follow this series as you did the first.


	2. Infancy

"Here she is. Your little girl," cooed the nurse. Fateful words that changed our lives forever.

The nurse came into the waiting room, holding a small bundle in a green blanket. I remember thinking to myself later that it was odd Grace was wrapped in a green cloth, not pink as was traditional. I brushed that aside and became infatuated with the tiny baby in the nurse's arms.

Alfred and I jumped up, standing on shaky legs. On instinct, I put my arms out so the nurse could give Grace to me. She was a red and pudgy baby that put up a little bit of fight at being held. Her eyes cracked open, having only been out of the womb for only a few hours, and then focused on me. They were green, only a tad darker than my own.

"Oh God," I breathed. "She's… She's beautiful."

Alfred was mute in shock, quietly inspecting her. He slowly reached a finger down to touch her small hand. She wasn't of age to grip, but she looked at Alfred in recognition, and Alfred knew he was a dad from that moment on. She looked at me, and I knew too.

"Hi Grace," Alfred whispered as if afraid to scare her. Her eyes flickered back to Alfred. "Hi… I'm your daddy… And I will always love you…"

I smiled tenderly at Alfred, feeling myself fall in love with him all over again. The man had always been good with children, but this was different. He was different. Grace was our baby. He had to be careful of everything he did now. Then again, so did I.

"What's her name?" the nurse asked suddenly. She had moved to the counter nearby with a pen and paper at the ready; Grace's birth certificate.

"Grace shall be her first name and Marie her middle name," I started, but paused. Her last name had been an issue Alfred and I hadn't settled on; Kirkland or Jones?

Alfred met my hesitant gaze, and then finally said, "Kirkland-Jones is her last name."

I leaned upwards to kiss Alfred on the cheek. He smiled at me, returning the kiss, and then dipping down to kiss Grace on her fat baby cheeks. I snuggled my nose into her soft belly. The nurse turned to leave after congratulating us. We had only a few minutes with her before she was to be taken back to her mother for feeding. I managed to catch the nurse before she left.

"Ma'am." The nurse stopped to look at me. "May I inquire as to her mother…? How old is she?"

"…She's sixteen," the nurse replied. "Unfortunately, I cannot give any more information other than that. You can stay with Grace for a little while longer, but she will have to go back to her mother for a few more days."

I nodded in understanding. We were allowed visitation rights until the hospital deemed it okay for the newborn to be taken from her mother, forever. We had offered to allow the mother to stay in Grace's life, but the girl had turned us down. Alfred had voiced aloud his hundreds of scenarios as to the girl's reasons for giving up the baby- shame, no money, too young, or a combination of the three- but we never knew any solid reason. The winner was "too young", and suddenly I felt disgusting.

I clutched Grace closer to my chest as I ducked my head down. The nurse left us alone for a little while. Alfred sat beside me and put a hand on my leg.

"Sweetheart," he started with a soft tone. "We're doing the right thing. So is the mom. It'll be okay. In time you'll see. This was the right thing to do."

I could only nod as I watched Grace. She was yawning and started to drift off into slumber.

* * *

Grace's nursery had been set up over a week long process of painting and decorating, mainly done by me. Alfred didn't really want to take part as he wasn't exactly creative, and he wasn't always home at the most convenient hours. Nevertheless, he found the perfect rocking chair as a gift to me, knowing full well how much I had wanted one so that I may rock our baby to sleep when she cried at night, or after I had just fed her. However, she was still too young to sleep in a full sized crib, and would need to stay in a much smaller one in the same room as us.

Alfred struggled in the door with the baby bag that the hospital had provided us with. Despite the fact we had already bought enough diapers, milk, and toys to keep Grace satisfied, the hospital gave us more, as well as an information packet on "The First Few Months: What to Expect", which we had read front to back while in the waiting room. This was after months of child rearing classes that included taking care of a sack of flour and learning exactly how to clean throw-up off the floor should she miss our shoulder.

By this point, Grace had fallen asleep. Instead of putting her into her new crib, Alfred and I sat on the couch and decided to watch her. Ever since her birth we'd gone about showing everyone pictures of Grace and had even convinced Alfred's parents to fly out to visit their granddaughter in a few weeks. Everyone agreed that she was beautiful, but until they got to see her sleeping or looking up at you with her big eyes, they couldn't understand just how beautiful she really was.

I had thought of what this moment would be like while out buying clothes and toys for her upcoming arrival. It was the only way to get by, some days. There were too many times were I was by myself as I struggled in a baby store for the clothes and scoured around a book store for the perfect parent-baby book, all the time alone and having women stare at me in sympathy that my "wife" wasn't present. I never corrected them because they would most likely grow offended, even if, lawfully, they were right: Alfred was not my husband.

Oftentimes I glanced at my wedding band that I never wore outside the apartment. There was an underlying fear that prevented me from doing so. Last year, 2004, we drove up north to San Francisco for the one-day only same-sex marriage act and tied the knot. The trip was spontaneous, but in our hearts we had wanted to get married for well over a year.

But then, California's Supreme Court ordered that the city had overstepped its boundaries and revoked the marriages, but allowed couples to remain in a union, which is just a fake marriage in both Alfred's and my opinion. We aren't married, but we are, and we can't say we're married or under a domestic partnership. We were part of the lost marriages of California. And Alfred refused to consider us a married couple until he knew it wouldn't be taken back from us. And while same-sex marriages are legal in some parts of the state, Alfred refused to jump on it again until it was completely legal. He feared for another spontaneous mistake.

I had hope, though, that someday we could have a _true_ wedding, not one in the city hall that was over in 5 minutes and included us standing in front of city officials. I wanted Alfred's family there, the entire firehouse, and now, our daughter to stand beside us as we were married. I wanted Alfred to stop referring to me as his boyfriend even after we were married.

Now was not the time to think about such a nearly impossible dream. I was just relishing in the fact we were even able to adopt.

Grace would be a handful; that much I knew from the start. She had strong lungs that allowed her to scream late into the night and all during the day. It made it difficult for me to change her diaper when she would kick and punch at my arms. And feeding her was even a struggle sometimes. She did not like being held.

To make matters worse, I was mostly alone for these trying times. But that didn't mean Alfred didn't contribute. He did in other ways. I was unable to write or be involved in my normal LGBT activities, so he was the sole bread winner for the family, and he often came home with food and plenty of diapers. During the night, if he was home, he would jump up to tend to Grace which allowed for me to sleep.

And then, there were the social hurdles. Alfred and I still wanted to go out as a family every once and awhile, which could be good or bad.

Our first day out with Grace had the media in a frenzy. They all wanted pictures of the baby, having not known if she was a girl or a boy, looked similar to us, or even what her name was. We had kept them completely out of the loop on purpose. But being out that day, there was no chance to hide her. I didn't like slings or back bags for a newborn, so I opted to carry her the entirety of the trip. That gave just enough time for the paparazzi to steal some shots of her here and there. By dinner time, her face was all over talk shows, mainly discussing our choice for adopting a Latina baby.

In truth, it was because while Alfred and I had searched for young children to take from foster care, we noticed there were a lot of Hispanic girls and boys that had a harder chance of finding a home. We tried to connect to these children, but it wasn't working for us, and we never could find one that worked. So, instead, we turned to adopting one that hadn't been born yet, but that the mother was voluntarily giving up. It was a shot in the dark, a very difficult task, even for heterosexual families, but we tried anyways.

In the end, my fame paid off. Alfred and I agreed to try an independent adoption, which meant we didn't use an agency, and we handled the paperwork. Once the name "Kirkland" appeared as a potential parent on lists, we were given an offer four months afterwards. And the end result was Grace.

From the start, we knew it would be a difficult task, and not just because she was a baby and we were new parents, but from the media, and fanatics against our relationship. More e-mails poured in of us "brainwashing" and "abusing" the baby just because we're gay. A petition went out on the Internet to have Grace taken from us. It was quite scary, especially when mothers would see us in the park, walking our baby in her carriage, and threaten to call Social Services on us.

One day, a police officer approached Alfred and I as we sat on a park bench. Grace had just fallen asleep, so we were soaking in that moment of peace to look out at the flora, when the officer banged his stick on the back of the bench, startling us. We sat up straight and turned around as the officer stared us down. He wasn't alone; another officer was standing just nearby with a sneer and a hand over his police stick as well.

"Hello officers," I said slowly. I gulped back some anxiety that always came when being too close to the police. Even if I had done nothing wrong, there was always that overwhelming sense of guilt that pooed in the pit of my stomach. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes." The man nearest to us eyed Grace. "Mind if I ask what you're doing with a baby?"

My face reddened in anger. I knew what he was starting to insinuate even before he had spoken the words he really meant to say. Those words alone struck a chord in me. What was _I_ doing with a baby; me, a gay man with his gay husband- what were _we_ doing and how _dare_ we do it? That is what he was implying.

"This is our child," Alfred started. He was tense beside me, but he knew how to control his emotions far better than I. A fireman had to keep his cool even in the worst of situations. "We're just out, like all the other families. Is there a problem with that?"

"Mind if we see _proof_ of this being your child?" the officer asked in a condescending tone.

"No," I replied, bristling at the collar. Alfred put a hand on my shoulder.

"Sir, I believe that would be a violation of rights," Alfred started.

"How? It is a simple request."

"One that we cannot fulfill," I snapped. "How are we to have papers on an infant?"

"Then how are we to believe your word?" the furthest officer asked suddenly. He looked more nervous than ever and his hand was starting to itch as he looked between me and the baby. I was as if they expected me to attack and run off with a newborn. Honestly!

"Have you not seen the news or read the papers?!" I spat. "I am Arthur Kirkland and this is my baby, Grace Marie Kirkland-Jones! You may call the Santa Dominica Hospital to request her birth certificate _and_ the adoption papers if you wish, but this is our child!"

The first officer hesitated as he looked between me and Alfred. "We received a call from some women expressing concern that two Caucasians had abducted a Latina infant."

"We didn't abduct her," I started, but the officer cut me off with a raised hand.

"We had to respond to the call and question you nonetheless." The officer looked back at his partner. It seemed they were ready to go, but the first officer stopped to look directly at me. "You might want to watch yourself. If you weren't famous, we'd have to take the baby to Social Services until it could be cleared."

"Officer," Alfred said suddenly in a firm tone of voice I seldom heard. "Tell me, would you do this if I called in that a Caucasian male and female had a Caucasian infant and I thought they had abducted them?"

The officer hesitated once again. "I would have to answer the call in some way."

"And how would you have them prove it?"

"In the same manner I asked you two."

"So, if I called on those women who called in to file stupid complaints about us, you'd take each of their babies?" Alfred narrowed his eyes. "I call bull shit. Give me your badge number, both of you."

"Alfred," I started gently.

"No, I have a right to ask for it so I can report them to their superior officer." Alfred was serious. There was very little I could do to stop him once he reached this mindset.

The officer sighed. "Our apologizes. We will give you our badge numbers, but nothing will come of it. This can't be seen as a hate crime since there was no action taken. Please understand. We have our own obligations too."

"Then maybe you guys should find a better way to prove a baby is someone's child. Not just looks alone." Alfred pulled me to stand, and even though he had hurt my underarm by the rough tug, I said nothing of it. I followed him as we left the park.

Grace, meanwhile, was oblivious to the attention she was garnering, good and bad. Her pictures appeared on talk shows and in papers and on websites that tracked Alfred and I. I have to admit, that is a bit scary to know people are following us, but I guess, whatever strikes a person's fancy.

Shortly after this, a lady smiled at me as I pushed Grace's carriage up the pathway to our car. I returned it and invited her over to view my daughter. I thought that perhaps she would be a breath of fresh air to our frayed nerves. She cooed over her small fingers and toes, cherubic face, and pudgy belly.

"Your wife must be a beautiful Latina," the lady said cheerfully. My smile faltered. "She has your eyes."

"She's adopted," I said. I didn't want to explain Alfred to her. She obviously saw him standing just behind me, but chose to ignore him. It was surprising given how people normally saw Alfred first before noticing me.

"Oh." The lady flushed and laughed nervously. "I'm sorry. Well, either way she is still quite adorable."

"Thanks," Alfred said. The lady's eyes flashed to him, surprised to see him there.

"Oh, are you the uncle?"

"Nope!" Alfred then put a hand on my shoulder and beamed. "I'm the dad! He's the papa!"

In one fell swoop my entire stance on being an outspoken LGBT activist changed as the woman's demeanor changed. She stood rigidly and breathed sharply through her teeth. I thought if she were a dragon there would be steam coming from her ears and fire from her mouth. I pulled the carriage away from her. There was a chance she would snatch Grace right up with the look she gave us.

"How could you?" she snapped.

"Excuse me?" Alfred asked.

"You've ruined this child's life," the lady hissed.

"Hey, she's happy and healthy," Alfred defended with a terse tone. "It's better than having her be on the streets or in an unloved family."

"There's no hope for you two, but to drag this poor baby into your horrible lifestyle is unforgivable."

"Ma'am, please do not fault our parenting because of our sexuality. They are two different things. It's better for her to live in a loved and accepting environment rather than a harsh and close-minded one. If you disagree with our lifestyle, you have every right not to be involved in it or accept it, but it's unfair to blame our parenting when our daughter is only four months old." I had kept my calm. Four years ago that would not have been the case, but dealing with far more ignorant people than this, I knew I could handle this particular situation with relative ease. I even surprised myself after having just nearly bitten off the police officers heads, but I had more experience with these kind of people. And, I was just tired.

The woman huffed and strutted away, her nose upturned with a fowl taste. Alfred squeezed my shoulder once before he scooper Grace into his arms. She had begun to cry when the tone of my voice changed.

"Let's go home," I said sternly. I stormed off towards the car wanting nothing more than to go home, have a nice cuppa, and curl up with Alfred and my daughter beside me.

* * *

Grace had reached her five month stage when it hit me, Alfred and I hadn't been intimate in four months. Ever since Grace came, it was as if our love life stopped cold turkey. I wasn't sure what to think of this. Most of the time I was too tired to even think of extending our kisses beyond a quick peck on the cheek, let alone snog him or pleasure him. The most we did were a few jerk-offs and quick blow jobs, but never any true sex.

It was around this time that I noticed Grace began to push away at all of my holds. She cried loudly when I held her after she was done feeding and fussed if I cuddled her to my face as I had done when she was a newborn. The stress of having my daughter react against me only tightened up my nerves even more.

Alfred came home in the afternoon one day. He trotted over to see me on the couch holding a crying Grace, and I couldn't help it. I began to cry too. Alfred stopped with his mouth open.

"Whoa, babe, what's wrong?!" He sat down next to me and wiped at my tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm just exhausted," I whimpered. Alfred was sympathetic and took Grace from my arms. "I think I need to sleep."

Alfred nodded and kissed my cheek. "I got Grace. Go and sleep, sweetheart."

I was able to get at least a few hours of blessed sleep, but then I lay awake, thinking about the last few months. All that the woman had said resonated within me. She never mentioned religion, but I still had that feeling she was jabbing at that. I wasn't a particularly religious person, but there were times when I thought bad things that happened in my life was from someone up above looking down on my and Alfred's relationship. I didn't want Grace's life to be put to a test where she'd break, or where we would break as a family.

I got up from the bed and wandered out into the living room. Alfred was watching a baseball game on the telly, making me smile. He raised a fist and cheered, juggling Grace in his arms as he did. His feet were propped on the coffee table near a bottle of beer. Grace was happily watching him and sucking on her pacifier all the while. She was never that good with me.

I sat down with a sigh beside him, and he instantly put a free arm around me. "Hey sweetheart. You were out for three hours. You didn't even hear me come in to change."

"I was tired," I replied. I looked down at Grace and frowned. "How are you so good with her…? She's so fussy when I hold her."

"Because I ignore her," Alfred said casually. "When you hold her, you constantly look at her and mess with her. She just wants to be near us, not constantly taken care of."

I looked up at Alfred. "I'm with her all the time and..."

"That's why," Alfred said suddenly, cutting me off. "You are _always_ with her. She's a baby, yeah, but even a baby wants some space. If she starts making noise, you don't have to bolt up to tend to her every whim. Let her cry for a bit. When she wants nothing but to sit and stare and drool, let her, and keep doing your thing. That's what I'm doing. I'll give her attention, but not all the time."

"But…" I reached for one of the parent books lying on the table, only to see Alfred's feet were resting atop them. I picked his feet up and then took the book away to hold it up so Alfred could see the cover. "The books say babies need constant attention."

"Books aren't always right. I know you live by them because you're a writer, but seriously. We can't coddle her. She'll become dependent." Alfred took the book from me and kissed my lips quickly. "Now, I'm going to go put Grace in her crib and when I get back, you had better be naked and on your back."

I gasped, surprised at his sudden change. "W-what?"

"Hey, it's been a _long_ time since we had sex and I'm randy. Baseball has always done that to me."

"Alfred!"

He laughed and stood up, heading to the hallway. "I mean it! I want you!"

I realized then that it was futile to be so down about what the future held. It was going to come no matter what. I cuddled Grace and kissed her in hopes that she would understand later on I would always be there. That I could protect her from the vicious outside world, ready to fling nasty comments her way when she grew old enough to understand them. But I had almost forgotten the best "tool" in my "arsenal"- my loving husband. Alfred would be there beside me and helping Grace whenever she was down. I could always rely on him.

We were a family, and that is what a family did for each other.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: So I took some creative liberty here in a few places. I have heard of the police officer issue actually happening, though. I met a couple from New York that had recently married and adopted a child, and the police questioning them on grounds of kidnap. It was ridiculous. Next chapter will have a toddler Grace, so get ready for the Terrible Twos!

Thank you all SO much for reading this, and for many of you, going back and either rereading or starting Hospital Flowers. I really can't explain to you guys what this means to me. Honestly, thank you. I hope my quality is up to standard and you continue to enjoy my work. See you next week!


	3. Toddler

Alfred answered his phone far too calmly in comparison to my excitement. "Hey babe. What's up?"

"She spoke!" I shouted in glee. I was still dancing in the kitchen with my apron on while Grace tried to mimic me in her high chair. "Oh darling, she said her first word!"

"Really?! Babe, that's fantastic! Did you record it?!" Alfred spoke too quickly and his accent made it harder for me to understand. I only caught half of it.

I laughed. "Of course! I know you'll be home in two hours, but I had to tell you now! I could send it to your mobile if you would like."

"No, I wanna be there with you two," Alfred replied in a much calmer tone. He sighed to catch his breath. I knew the feeling. My emotions were all over the place, and it was hard to keep a level head.

A shrill bell in the background went off, startling us both. My good mood evaporated as Alfred gave a hasty reply and then hung up. I dropped my phone as I fumbled to hang up. Grace watched with curious eyes. I clutched the phone to my chest as I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I didn't want to alarm Grace.

"Everything's all right, poppet," I said slowly. "Papa just had a little fright, that's all."

Grace understood me, or at least, that's what I told myself. We may not have been biologically bound, but I felt there was a strong bond between us. For a while I feared she wouldn't want anything to do with me during a spout of her constant rebelling against me. As she became a little more mobile, she grew closer to me. I reveled in this attention, but worried she might start to push away again if I was too overbearing.

Now was not the time to think of such depressing thoughts. It was grocery time; something Grace took great delight in doing. She loved grabbing everything and anything from the shelves, much to my frustration. Her delighted giggles, though, always seemed to melt my irritated mood and I learned to laugh it off.

Alfred, on the other hand, had very little bonding times with our daughter as he would come home from work and collapse in our bed. It was summer in L.A., which meant a higher threat of field fires in the outlier counties that required multiple units to help control the flames. Sometimes Alfred would work twelve to fourteen hours if the fires were really bad. The news was constantly on during these times. There was less of a chance of him getting hurt, but if there was even the slightest risk, I was in a panic. When he came home, all he did was sleep. I hardly saw much of him, and worse, Grace saw even less.

Feeling bold, I detoured from the grocery store. Whenever I had it rough, Alfred was always there for me. Right now, he needed his family. I pulled up to the fire house a short while later. I grabbed Grace from her car seat and headed inside.

The station was quiet for the moment. The men were still out, but there was always one man on duty to act as operator for when someone called in an emergency. It was his job to alert the firemen on duty to detour from the station to head to the next fire. Grace looked around in awe at the building. She had been in only once before, but only when she was an infant.

"Muh?" Grace made grabby hands at a picture of Alfred on the wall. I smiled; relieved she could still recognize him.

"Yes, that's daddy," I said.

"Muh?" She looked at me.

"No, daddy." I pointed at the photograph.

"Muh!" Grace smiled and reached for another photo.

I admired Alfred's picture. He wore his full attire and smiled proudly at the camera. He seemed so much younger even though the picture had to have been less than a year old. I wondered when exactly it was taken. Was it before or after we had Grace? She'd only been alive for five months, and yet we'd already changed so much.

Gently, I touched the photograph, just over Alfred's cheek. I felt tears well up as a wave of longing struck me. Suddenly, nothing mattered but Alfred's arms around me and my face pressed into his neck, feeling him breathe against my chest and hearing his voice as he spoke. The sensation left me short of breath. I stepped back, clinging to Grace, and gulping down short gasps for air.

"Arthur? Is that you?" Sam, the operator, came out from his small office. He was a volunteer firefighter. He had retired from his old job years ago, but took this position to help pass the time. I had been reminded of a sort of Santa Claus, just with less fat. He had always been kind to me and Alfred in the past, so I felt no need to tense up at his sudden appearance.

" 'Ello Sam." I wiped a tear before turning to him. "How are you?"

"Thirsty. Want some tea?" I nodded, grateful for the offer. He tickled Grace's feet. "She's getting awfully big!"

"I know." I shifted her weight in my arms to help manage with the large baby bag on my other arm. "She said her first word today."

"Really?! Is that why you're here?" Sam asked. "Gonna show Alfred?"

"That, and, well, I miss my husband." The fire house was the only public place I felt comfortable called Alfred by his "proper" title. "These field fires are creating quite a rift. I'm sure it's the same for the other wives."

Sam nodded, gesturing into the kitchen. I followed him, setting Grace on the ground with a few of her toys from home. We closed the door so she wouldn't crawl out. Firemen were clean, so I knew she would be fine on the floor. She was quick to go to every single part of the room. I watched her carefully from my seat at the table.

Sam put a kettle on the stove. He chuckled as he watched Grace too. "She's a fast little thing isn't she? Just like her dad."

"Yes, she's very much like him. Sometimes I wonder if they actually are related."

"Now that would be something," Sam laughed.

He offered me a cup of tea, to which I took happily. It was exactly what I needed.

"So you and Alfred aren't getting enough time together?" Sam asked after a moment. I nodded. "Ever think of a vacation?"

"I don't think we can afford it," I said sadly. "I haven't had time to write or do any interviews to get any extra dosh since Grace was born. And with Grace…"

"It doesn't have to be anything major. Even just a night out to dinner and a hotel could really help. Hell, leave her with me for a few hours. She loves her Uncle Sam."

I smiled happily as the old man winked at me just like Santa would. "That's very kind of you, thank you."

"Listen here, Arthur. I've been married thirty-five years. The thing any married man needs in his life is his mate, especially when he's a new dad. Without one, he'll fade into nothing. Someone's gotta rescue him."

"Yes, well, he's saved me plenty of times. I suppose the least I could do is take him out on a few dates."

Of course I would do more than this, but Sam understood my point. Grace might be here, but Alfred's and my relationship as a couple didn't have to suffer. Fires or not, we had still made it through somehow before, and we'd continue to do so.

* * *

The sound of the garage door opening, followed by the hum of the truck pulling in prompted me to get up. I'd been talking with Sam for well over two hours. There hadn't been any major fires today, but I was still amazed they'd been out for so long. Grace had dozed during that time. The noises woke her, much to her chagrin. She began to fuss until I gave her the pacifier. Unfortunately, I had left her bottle of milk at home. I hadn't planned on being out so late and hadn't remembered to bring any food in the bag. Hopefully she wouldn't get hungry.

I waited patiently as the men trekked back inside. They all seemed tired, but none more than my Alfred. His eyes looked hollow and there were dark bags under his eyes. I can't remember seeing him so tired that his shoulders and back were hunched from all the work on him. He almost missed me had Grace not decided to start wailing in my arms.

Alfred snapped upright instantly as he looked over at us with wide eyes. "Artie? Grace?!" He rushed over, inspecting Grace. "What're you doing here? Why's she crying?!"

I juggled Grace in my arms to rock her. That was her hungry cry. So much for her not getting hungry.

I sighed irritably. "We missed you, so we came to visit. Only, Grace got too hungry."

"D'ya have a bottle?" I grimaced. Alfred understood, and he began to back up towards the door. "Okay, lemme run out to get something."

And he did just that, still in full gear. When it came to his baby, there was nothing he wouldn't do.

A few moments later, Grace was content as she sucked on a bottle of warm milk, fresh from the store. Alfred and I sat in Sam's office for some privacy to talk. There were old and new photos on the wall of young firefighters standing around their fire truck. Men and women all smiled out as they posed proudly. There in the Eighties had faded, giving the usually bright red truck a slightly auburn color to it. Behind Sam's desk was the flag of the ladder. I saw an old, yellow fire helmet on top of a filing cabinet with the number sixteen on it.

I explained to Alfred my plan to surprise him with Grace so he could hear her speak. He snuggled up beside me on the old leather couch facing the desk. I rested my head on his shoulder.

"I was surprised," he said gently. His hand was rubbing up and down my arm that was cradling Grace. "Trust me. But you didn't have to wait until I got back. I'd be home in a few hours."

"She'd be asleep by then, as would you." Alfred frowned. I put a hand on his knee. "It's not your fault, my love. I know times have been rough lately. That's why I'm here."

Alfred's eyes spoke loudly of his gratitude and love. He couldn't say it easily, so he leaned in to kiss me tenderly instead. I sighed against his lips, putting one hand on his jaw. It was reassuring to know he was still here and actually by my side. I wasn't sleeping and dreaming up this moment. Sometimes I tended to forget to appreciate what Alfred and I had, even if we often felt it wasn't a lot. But we were together and we had a baby and that was certainly more than enough for us.

"Muh-muh?"

We broke the kiss to look down at Grace. She was watching us back. Alfred took her into his arms and smiled widely. It was refreshing to see light in those eyes again.

"Your first word!" he exclaimed. "Did you say mommy?"

"Technically she said muhmuh and that was her second word." Alfred shot me a murderous look. I flinched away from him. "But mummy is fine too!"

Alfred laughed, his expression gone, and kissed my cheek. "You're so cute."

"Darling, how about we go out tonight?" I brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. He shivered. "You need to relax."

"We can't," he breathed.

I leaned in to breath against the shell of his ear. "Sure we can. We'll just ask one of the boys to take care of her for a while."

"N-no," he stuttered. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. "I'm saving up for a vacation."

I say back with a surprised expression. "What?"

Alfred nodded sheepishly, trying to compose himself. He was red all the way to the ear I had just whispered in. "I want to escape with you and our baby. Somewhere up north."

San Francisco was on the tip of my tongue, but Alfred shook his head. "Not S.F. Somewhere smaller than that. I want it to be quiet and definitely not a city."

"Alfred, when did you plan this?" I asked.

"Sometimes during one of the fires I thought to myself that I should make some memories with you and Grace." He caressed the bottom of Grace's foot. "I'm missed so much…"

"Darling, that is not true. You have been there. You were there at her birth, all the nights she needed a daddy, and on your days off when you two nap together in your pants. Times are rough now, but it won't be forever. You won't miss every important event in life. I know you'll be there when she scrapes her knee, when she learns to ride a bicycle, and when a boy comes over."

Alfred's face hardened at this. "He'll have to meet my fire axe first."

I laughed. It all seemed it would be okay. Everyone needed a pick-me-up every once and awhile. I was just glad that I was still able to be useful to Alfred, even after all this time.

We were unable to take that vacation for a few more months. We decided to hold it off until Grace's first birthday. Before leaving, the fire station threw her a party. Grace enjoyed the new dress Alfred bought her, the cake the men had baked for her, and all of the extra attention. We were blessed to enjoy the party all the way to the end before a minor kitchen fire was called in. Alfred didn't have to follow given that he was off duty, but I could see in his eyes that he wanted to go. It was amazing. Even after he'd worked himself to the bone, he still had that sense of duty and ingrained heroism tugging at his heart.

The next day we had arrived in a tourist town by the sea. The ocean breeze calmed my nerves almost instantly. Alfred had spared no expense for this holiday. However, Grace decided it was high time she become a toddler a year early. She screamed louder, cried longer, and had regressed to her earlier phase of not wanting to be held by me. She was fine with Alfred, however.

We took her to the local toy store in hopes that buying her a toy or two would keep her from getting so temperamental. Only, I had counted on Alfred turning into a child himself the moment we stepped inside. He rushed to and fro, grabbing toys off of shelves like Grace does at the grocery store. I had to keep on his heel to make sure he didn't break anything or thought it was a fine idea to buy a toy that was well past Grace's age.

"Artie!" Alfred yelled halfway across the store. I blushed as people looked appalled by this. "Artie, we should get Grace this! It's so cute!"

I stomped over to the infant section where Alfred was, but stopped short upon seeing him hold up a toy that was obviously too old for Grace. He was like a child himself in the way he jumped up and down excitedly with bright eyes and an eager smile. Normally I would have been amused by this, and even slightly turned on, but as it was, I was embarrassed to be seen with him.

"Alfred…," I started through clenched teeth. My patience was wearing thin. "That is for a four year old… Grace is too young. The boxes say what age the toys are appropriate for. Why don't you look at the toys that say twelve months?"

Alfred pouted. "But all those toys are super boring! Grace needs stimulation!"

"Too much of a challenge and she won't want to play with it anymore. It'll be too difficult for her. Honestly…"

"But Grace neeeeeds it!"

It was around this time that I noticed a distinct difference between Alfred's and my parenting methods. Grace, though barely able to talk, already had Alfred wrapped around her finger. She could look at anything and he would get it for her. There was no denying our daughter, and there was never enough, according to Alfred. But that didn't apply to me, for if I raised an objection to Grace's demands, Alfred would outwardly oppose me. It made for me getting in a word extremely difficult and frustrating.

In the end, we left the store with toys that were age appropriate, and a few for Alfred to abate him since I had won in our argument. The clerks at the toy laughed at how "cute" we seemed to be acting, but it wasn't cute. And I didn't find it amusing in the slightest.

I waited until we had made it back to the hotel to approach this issue to Alfred. After the toy store and the beach, we had finished the day at the aquarium. Grace was dead to the world, much to my relief. I wouldn't say I was jealous of my daughter, but I did slightly resent the fact I couldn't enjoy the trip with Alfred as much as I wanted to. However, I kept most of this hidden. This was as much Alfred's vacation as it was mine.

"Alfred," I started. I shuffled up to the side of the bed where Alfred was sitting to take off his shoes. "May I talk to you?"

"Sure. What's up, babe?" Alfred suddenly pulled me to sit in his lap. He surprised me when he began to massage my shoulders. That bastard.

"Mm, ah." I coughed in a horrible attempt to hide my sudden inability to speak. "Uh… Earlier today… I couldn't help but notice you…were very… um. Ah!"

"Babe, you're so tense!" Alfred pressed a particularly tight spot on my back. I moaned loudly as my head fell back, my eyes closing in bliss. "Op, that's a good knot right there, huh?"

"D-darling," I tried again. "Why do you insist on…going against my word…?"

"Huh? What d'ya mean?"

"With Grace." I glanced over at her. She slept in her pack 'n' play near our bed. There was no way she'd be waking up any time soon. "I say no and you say yes."

"Aw, babe, it's a vacation. You can't say no." Alfred's fingers had slipped to my neck by now. My head fell forward and my eyes slipped close again.

"But-ah! Oh, there. Yes. Mmm…" Alfred chuckled lowly by my ear. "You do this…at home too."

"Well, I'm not home as often, so when I am I want to never do anything that makes her feel upset."

"Alfred, we have to be a team. If we contradict each other, it'll confuse Grace, and later she'll choose between us. You don't want her to have to do that, do you?"

"No."

"Or grow up spoiled."

"No…"

I turned to face Alfred, putting my hands on his as they fell into my lap. "We have to remain firm. Not harsh, just firm. And we have to remain together on a decision. I'll loosen up a bit if you agree to tighten up some as well. Okay?"

Alfred bit his lip in thought. "But…she'll get mad."

"That's the point." I laughed. "All children will get angry. She needs to appreciate what she receives, otherwise she will continue to ask, and then when will it end? When she wants a pony?"

Alfred grimaced at this. I knew he understood my point then. He watched Grace sleeping.

"If we work together, it'll be easier for everyone," I assured him.

"I just want the best for her," he mumbled.

I kissed his cheek softly. "As for I, my love. As long as we're here, she will have that. We love each other and, in turn, we'll give her our love."

Alfred smiled at me. He raised my hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle slowly. He hovered over my left ring finger for a moment. His eyes flashed up to mine.

"I think it's time I spoil my husband," he said in a tone of voice he knew would get me excited.

I gasped at hearing him call me his husband. He pulled me atop him as he lay back. Our lips met in a tender kiss, never parting as he rolled me onto my back to reverse our positions. My fingers gripped his back. I could feel his heart thumping against my chest. I moaned again like I had when he massaged me, and my legs opened to accommodate him.

Yes, this was my holiday too. And I planned to enjoy myself.

* * *

They call it the Terrible Twos, and no one excelled more at being terrible than my daughter, Grace. She was a runner and loved to shout, forgetting her "indoor voice". I often had a headache by the time Alfred came home. And he only made it worse by riling her up. But it was fun, for the most part. I enjoyed having Grace grow up, and with her being a little older, I was able to return to the outside world and put in my part of the family by making some money.

However, the true terror of Grace was her inability to fully understand the meaning of "no". I knew Alfred's spoiling her would come back to bite us. I was forceful in my telling her no she could not have candy, no that was not a toy, no she could not jump on the couch, and _no _she could not draw on the walls. Alfred, thankfully, had started to come around and had to tell her no as well, and that always backfired.

One particular evening Grace was screaming for candy. It was only an hour before bedtime, and Alfred was not happy to come home to hear an upset Grace.

"Grace! No! Papa said no!"

She stomped her feet as she reached out for the candy that was sitting on the counter, high out of her reach. I was leaning against the counter with my arms crossed. My patience and tolerance for this to continue had long since snapped. Alfred, sadly, had just walked in on this mess.

"I want! I want!"

"Well too bad, you're not going to get it!" Alfred snapped. "Now stop it!"

I put a hand out to Alfred. "It won't work, Alfred. She's in too foul of a mood. We have to try something else."

Alfred sighed angrily. He turned to discuss with me just what exactly we should do, when Grace ran right up to my shin and kicked me. I yelped out in surprise, not pain, as I jumped away from her. She had never shown violence before and I was quite alarmed by this. And then, I did something I should not have done.

I grabbed Grace roughly by her arm and dragged her to the kitchen table. I sat on the chair and pulled her over my lap. Alfred watched from where he stood as I spanked Grace four times on her bottom. She screamed and wailed and cried out, "No! No! Stop!"

"There!" I announced. I plopped her back on her feet. She was rubbing her sore bottom more for affect than for pain. I hadn't done it too hard. Her pride was wounded more than anything else. "Go to your room right now, young lady. Go!"

Grace ran to her room, wailing all the while. I just stayed seated as I rubbed at my temples. Alfred shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he nibbled on his lower lip in anxiety.

"Did you really have to spank her?" he asked.

I sighed. "I didn't want to, but I was done with her attitude. And she kicked me!"

"You shouldn't ever use violence against violence."

"Yes, well I will go in there later and apologize. For right now I need a break."

But I wasn't allowed that. Not even fifteen minutes later there was a knock at our door. I was worried it was the neighbors to complain about Grace. It was an embarrassing affair when I had to explain that Grace wasn't hurt, but that she was just two.

Alfred answered the door. I was sitting in the living room at my laptop, but I could hear Alfred's gasp from there. "H-hello officer."

I bolted up out of my chair to join Alfred by his side. This was not good news.

A fully dressed police officer stood in our doorway. He didn't look pleased to be there at all. Just to his left was a petite woman with brunette hair and sharp glasses. Her brown eyes pierced me as they looked at me. I stood just slightly behind Alfred.

"What can we do for you?" Alfred asked, clearly ruffled by this sudden appearance.

"We received word of possible child abuse," the officer said in a hard voice.

"What?!" My eyes bulged at the accusation. "Surely there is a mistake!"

"We have to check things out, sir. May we enter the premises?" The officer gestured to himself and the woman. "This is Mary of Child Services. She will need to see the child in question."

My worst fear was forming right in front of me, stepping in through the door, and going to ask Grace questions. I was helpless to do much of anything. My limbs had glued themselves to my side and my throat had gone dry from adrenaline. Alfred was equally in shock, but he was a little bit more in control of himself due to years of firefighting.

Mary led Grace out from her bedroom. She was still sniffling, but otherwise seemed all right. The two sat on the couch, in full view of Alfred and me, as well the police officer who still hadn't stopped staring at the two of us so suspiciously. It was a disgusting feeling to be judged so.

"Grace, hello. My name is Mary." Grace didn't reply. She looked at Mary with wide, curious eyes. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I want candy. Papa and daddy say no," Grace said pitifully.

"Did they hit you?" Mary asked.

Grace nodded. She rubbed at her butt for emphasis. I almost fainted when Mary looked at me. "Papa hit me. It hurted."

Mary nodded slowly. "I see. Have they ever hit you before?"

Grace shook her head wildly. Her braids slapped at her cheeks. "No. Papa never hit. Daddy never hit."

"Have they ever touched you in a bad place?" Mary asked.

"WHAT?!" Alfred stepped forward. The officer took a step as well, and I pulled Alfred away. I could feel bile rising in my throat and my knees were beginning to give out. I clutched to Alfred's arm for dear life. If he left, I might have died right in our flat.

"No," Grace said. I could tell she was confused by what Mary meant.

"May I see your arms?" Grace held them out. I watched as Mary inspected her arms for any bruises or cuts or burns. She then moved to her neck and legs. When Mary asked her to lift her shirt to check her torso, I had to turn away. It was too much.

"She seems okay," Mary said after a long while. The officer relaxed. She looked at me. "Officer, may I have a moment?"

"I'll be outside," he said. He gave us one last glance, and then left, closing the door behind him.

Mary got up from the couch and approached us. "I'm very sorry to have troubled you and your partner, Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Jones. I know how difficult this must be, but please understand this is my job. We have to respond to every accusation. There have been reports from your landlord of noise complaints from various neighbors. And tonight, they had heard what sounded like abuse."

"So you're saying you'd do this for even heterosexual families?" Alfred asked angrily. He was reigning in his anger. It was boiling over on his neck, bulging the veins and flexing his muscles on his arms.

Mary nodded. She looked over at Grace. "I know two year olds can be a hassle, but we at Child Services do not condone spanking of any kind. Is that understood?"

I broke then. I began to cry into my hands, hiding my face from that woman who tried to be kind, but was really so cruel to come into our house. "I'm sorry! I can't believe! I didn't mean to! I was so tired! Please! Please, don't take her away!"

Alfred pulled me to his chest, encircling his arms around me so I could feel safe. But I didn't. Not as long as that woman was here and that officer was out there. Not as long as Grace continued to watch and rub at her sore bottom that I had smacked.

"We don't have the ability to do that based on this screening," Mary explained. "There is no problem here. I'll leave. I'm sorry for all of the trouble. Good night."

I continued to cry, much like a broken man, even after Mary and the police had gone. Alfred tried to soothe me, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't take back the fact that it had happened. That we had almost ruined everything because of my slip up.

I eventually went to bed, but still cried into my pillow. Alfred checked up on me, and sat by my side. He rubbed my back and tried to console me. He kissed my face and held me, asking me what would help, but I didn't know. I had no idea how anyone could erase all of that.

After a few moments, Alfred left. I curled into a ball, clutching my knees to my chest and heaving into the pillow. It was soaked from my tears. I began shaking, and I almost hyperventilated, but then I heard a tiny voice from behind me.

"Papa?"

I turned sharply and saw Grace at the foot of the bed. She was watching me just as she had Mary. She was scared. In the midst of all of this, I had forgotten about Grace's feelings. She had almost been taken from us, and while she didn't know everything that was happening, she did understood that a strange woman had asked her even stranger questions, and now her parents were both crying.

I scooped Grace up into my arms, cradling her to my chest as I had when she was an infant. She didn't kick or scream or push away. She curled into a ball, sucking on her thumb, and stayed still in my arms. Alfred then lied across from me and put his arms around the two of us. He was crying, his glasses off and sitting on the nightstand behind him.

Then, he started to hum. When Grace was younger and couldn't sleep, I often hummed to her. It was always the same song, and Alfred would laugh at me every single time. But it was a reflex. If I couldn't be at home in England and teach Grace the other part of her adopted heritage, then I would bring it to her.

I didn't have to ask anything as Alfred hummed. He rubbed my back and rocked us slowly. I smiled into his shirt, singing the last bit aloud. "…God Save the Queen…"

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: Whew! What a scary ride for this family, eh? But this is just the start of it! Next up will be Grace's 3-6 years, which means the start of school, and a "nice" little surprise in there. I hope you enjoy it!

Please stop by my writing tumblr, 2kokoro, if you wish to ask me or a character a question. Thank you!


	4. Childhood

For months I had nightmares that never changed. It started with a knock on the door. As I moved to answer, the front door slammed open. Shadowed hands stretched out, going through me, and straight for Grace. They grabbed her as she screamed in fear. I'd scream too and try to pull her free, but it was all in vain. They'd take her. Her crying face was the last thing I'd see before I woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

If Alfred was still at home, he'd be there to comfort me. "It's okay, sweetheart. No one can get her."

But it was never enough. I watched Grace carefully. It was difficult for the both of us as Grace began to resent my overprotective attitude, and I was usually exhausted afterwards. In all that worrying I forgot to worry about Alfred like I normally did. His leaving in the middle of the nights no longer bothered me, mainly because I was already awake, fretting in the living room or watching over Grace, trying to gather my wits about me.

The summer fires were long since over, and the holidays had suddenly crept up on us. Just what I needed. L.A. never had that holiday cheer, just more traffic to clog up the streets. And December was always hard for Alfred as he constantly remembered when Matthew was killed. Alfred didn't normally drink alcohol heavily, but sometimes I wished he would. It was better than him eating junk foot and moping around the flat. I worried it would leave an impression on Grace.

During that time I became bedridden from stress. I was light headed in the morning, but shrugged it off as my needing some more sleep. However, as the day progressed I felt feverish. I tried to nap, but my entire body ached, including my throbbing head that refused to let me sleep. Grace, now in preschool, depended on me to pick her up. I tried to get up; hoping my stamina would stay with me until I got home, but getting to the door drained me. There was no way I'd be able to get Grace.

Just as I thought to call Alfred to see if he could fetch her instead, I was struck by the same hazy feeling from that morning. Then, I fainted.

I awoke to loud banging on the front door. I had collapsed in the kitchen. The cool hardwood floor felt good against my clammy skin. I turned my head to press into it, but that only made everything worse. Moving wasn't a good idea, so I tried to remain still after that. However, someone was outside, and Grace was still at school. I had to get up.

Unfortunately, my limbs didn't agree. My legs were heavy and I couldn't feel my arms. I was breathing normally, but my heart raced. Nausea overcame me, followed by chills, and that constant banging reverberated in my head. Then, the phone rang and continued to until the answering machine picked up. I heard Alfred's frantic voice calling my name on the line, but I honestly can't remember what he was saying. Then, the line went dead and silence followed.

As I lay on the floor I thought of those haunting hands snatching Grace away. My leaving her at school was surely enough to have Child Services called again. I thought of my life without her. It was unbearable to imagine no more Taco Tuesday, Pancake Sunday, or Board Game Night. No more Dora dancing mornings or hearing her sing along to the radio or seeing her swing her legs back and forth as she sat patiently at the table waiting for dinner. I'd miss her hugs and smiles, her laughs and cries.

Lying pathetically on that floor I began to weep. Then, the front door slammed open, much like in my nightmares. I nearly screamed except that I was too weak. That, and Alfred was standing in the doorway.

"Arthur!" He descended on me, pulling me into his arms and against his chest. "Oh baby, you're burning up!"

"Fainted," I whispered. My eyelids felt heavy. "Grace… She's… At school…"

"No, it's okay. She's here." Alfred picked me up under my legs and carried me to bed. He tucked me in and fetched me a glass of water. I heard the voices of our neighbors intermingle with Alfred's. Then, there was more darkness.

I awoke four hours later. Alfred was in the living room with the T.V. on and I heard him talking to Grace. I felt better, especially the more I drank the water Alfred had left on the nightstand. I wasn't well enough to get up, though.

"Alfred!" I called. I used too much energy. My head is not leaving this pillow, I thought as I lay back down.

Alfred appeared in a flash. He approached me with a wary smile. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran a hand through my hair, only to stop at my forehead to check my temperature. "Still got a fever, huh?"

"Grace is…" My voice was raspy from a dry throat. I drank more water.

"She's home safe. I was called to get her when no one came. I then got a phone call from Susan next door. She heard this loud noise and when you wouldn't answer the door, she freaked out. I think she's been eavesdropping on us… Maybe she called Child Services… But, anyways, I called home and when you didn't answer, I came right home. Almost caused an accident on the 5."

He put a hand on mine. "I feel like I'm dying," I mumbled.

Alfred chuckled. "You're dehydrated, that's all. Well, that and a nasty flu."

"I thought they'd take Grace away because I wasn't there…"

Alfred pulled me up to sitting, wrapping his arms around me. "No one is going to take Grace. You've been upset about this for months. There are tons of way worse parents out there, and they still get to keep their kids. Please, just… Look at where all of that stressing got you."

I started crying again. "I don't want to lose her."

"We won't. I promise."

"How do you know?" I looked up at him as I began to panic. I held him out at arm's length to get a good look at him. "What if they come again?!"

Alfred sighed tiredly. "You have to calm down. Rest, okay? We'll talk later."

He kissed my forehead and left, leaving little room to argue. My head pounded too hard for me to stay upright for much longer anyways. I fell back into my pillow, and soon succumbed to sleep again.

When I awoke next it was nearing ten at night. I could hear Alfred as still awake and watching T.V. in the living room. My body was stiff from having not moved much all day, but it was well enough to get up. I donned my robe, not the least bit surprised Alfred had dressed me in my pajamas, and then went to get some tea.

A creak in the floorboards alerted Alfred. He looked over the back of the couch and smiled when he saw me up. "Hey sweetheart, how do you feel?"

"Better," I replied. I shuffled to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove.

Alfred joined me shortly. "I've been thinking, ya know now that Grace is in school, maybe it's time you get out some more."

"I get out plenty." My back was to him. I didn't like his tone.

"Well, just to, you know, make friends and such. I think it'd be good for you."

"I have friends." Despite my weary state I could feel myself growing angrier with Alfred. He was insinuating something I had always suspected he disliked about me- my aversion to social interaction.

I enjoyed solitude. The speeches, guest appearances, and interviews filled the gap between when my next book was due out. I hadn't always enjoyed myself much during those times, so I wasn't keen on going back. I felt too itemized when in the spotlight and far too vulnerable talking about my love life. Alfred knew this, and he never pressured me in the past, so why now? What had changed?

"Arthur, you're friends with my friends. You need your own. Maybe you could even get…a real job."

That did it.

"We are dropping this immediately, Alfred," I said tersely. "I am still too sick."

I think Alfred mumbled an apology. Then, he left the room. I stayed in the kitchen until long after my tea had been brewed and I had drunk it. My mind was returning to normal speed, but decided to travel down nasty, dark paths that destroyed my mood further. Alfred's voice echoed in my head, focusing on specific sections of what he said.

I felt tears well up, but they were mainly leftovers from my earlier emotional breakdown. Thinking of a "real" job after years of not having one bothered me. I used to be an assistant editor, and I hated it. So many constraints. I never felt anyone could hear me. The same was true with interviews. They were always specific questions about "us"-Alfred and me- never understanding how I felt. That was why Alfred was different. He knew me. He understood.

I wondered what had changed, and then realized it was nearing midnight. Alfred had gone to bed, but he didn't come in to say good night to me.

That was the first time I realized everything might not be okay.

* * *

Christmas was always a fanfare with the family, staying until after the New Year. Our limited space always made it difficult to accommodate Alfred's family. It was embarrassing, but they never complained about rooming in a nearby hotel. They'd much rather spoil their granddaughter.

Grace and Sam Jones were always welcome in the flat. Alfred's sour mood abated, Grace turned into a sweet little lady, and I found great relief in their company. After our "marriage" I had taken to calling them mum and dad. I never thought it awkward. They were better in-laws than my own family had been anyways. Mum especially. She seemed to adore me, because I tended to let out my "gayer" side, which consisted of long chats, tea time, and baking. Alfred usually stayed with dad during this time. He was gay, but he wasn't _that_ gay.

On Grace's fifth Christmas, the last one before she started kindergarten, things were like normal. There was a hint of a few tense moments here and there between Alfred and me, but that was also something normal for this month, so we tended to brush it off. I was decorating sugar biscuits with Grace and mum in the kitchen while Alfred and dad watched football in the living room.

The phone rang suddenly. I moved to answer it, but hesitated when I saw the Caller ID. It was the fire station.

"H-happy Christmas," I said nervously. Mum looked over worriedly.

"Hey Arthur." It was Jaime. "Sorry about this, but… We need Al."

I sighed, dropping my head. "Yes, he'll be right down."

"Merry Christmas." He then hung up.

I waved mum off and went to fetch Alfred. He was cheering with his dad about some player scoring in the game, but I had no memory of what happened shortly after that. The colors and sounds blurred together.

Something felt wrong.

"Honey," I started. I felt weak.

_Don't go._

"You've been called."

Alfred looked over at me and then frowned. "Prolly just an electric fire." He got up, but stopped short when he saw my expression.

_Don't go._

"Hey, don't worry, babe." He kissed my cheek and squeezed my shoulder. It didn't reassure me. "It's harmless enough. I'll be back in time for dinner."

_Don't go!_

"Promise." He winked.

I watched him leave. I couldn't return to the kitchen, so I floated into the bedroom to hide in this fog that had blinded me. Why didn't I say anything? How could I be so foolish?

Quickly, I fumbled for my mobile. I had forgotten to tell Alfred I loved him. I never let him leave the house without having him hear that.

"Babe? I just left. What's-"

"I love you," I said suddenly. Oh, how pathetic did I sound?

Alfred chuckled. "I love you too. I'll be back soon."

"Just! …Just be careful, you idiot."

"Always."

I didn't want to hang up. That unsettling feeling was still there. It was pulling at my heart, twisting my insides until I felt ready to choke on tears. I had never felt so violently against Alfred leaving before. If I had been rational, perhaps I'd have thought it was the holiday stress, or just the few fights we'd been having as of late, but that was all thrown out the window the more I focused on that terrible feeling of dread.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred said. "I know we've been fighting a lot lately, and I'm sorry. I know it's always hard during this month because of me. I'm sorry."

"No. No, don't be silly. I could never blame you for mourning your friend. I…I am the same. I miss him too."

Alfred chuckled again. "But, it's silly, right? I mean, I have you and Gracie now. I just gotta…"

"Darling, look. We'll talk later. Keep your promise and don't you dare be late for dinner. I love you."

"I love you too. See you tonight." Then he hung up.

I felt better. The feeling from before had simmered down enough for me to rejoin my family out in the main room. Grace came up to me holding her stuffed giraffe she loved to take everywhere. I remembered the family vacation we had taken a few years ago up north where Alfred and I bought her it.

"Papa, we put the biscuits in. You missed the decorating."

I scooped her up into my arms and nuzzled my nose with hers. "Oh, well then we'll have to make scones, huh poppet?"

"Chocolate chip?"

"Sure things, my love!"

The evening came upon us and we all settled down at the dinner table. Alfred was due back any minute, if he had kept his promise, that is. The ham was pulled from the oven and I was just finishing the dressings when the phone rang once more.

"That's probably Alfred," mum said. "Calling to say he's coming back."

"He better," I said. I got up to answer it, ignoring the flash of the Caller ID. "Alfred, the ham's on the table. You had best be- Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were…"

Dad looked over, having set the last of the utensils on the table. "Who is it, Arthur?"

I dropped the phone, turned, and collected Grace into my arms. "We have to go. We have to go right now. Alfred's in the hospital."

"Oh no," mum whispered. She and dad rushed to grab their coats. They handed Grace hers just as we ran out of the apartment and down to the car.

That was why Alfred should never have left. That fool. That bloody idiot went and got himself hurt, again, on Christmas Eve. Only my idiot Alfred would do something so stupid.

But it was all for naught as we got to the hospital and ran down the hallway towards the cluster of fireman, Captain Carriedo was there to stop me. He smiled at Grace, clutching my hand, and then acknowledged mum and dad just behind me.

"Slow down, Arthur. He's okay." The entire family let out a sigh of relief.

"You really need to stop telling me I have to come to the hospital because of an emergency," I said as tears threatened to slip out. "Oh my, you had me. I thought my Christmas had been ruined…"

"Yeah…" Antonio laughed nervously. "He just has a broken arm and a herniated disc in his lower back, so he needs to take some time off of work. He's been calling for you."

"Right, I'll go in and see him first with Grace."

Dad nodded. "Yeah, we need to catch our breathes."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. I began to walk, but felt a tug from behind me. Grace glanced up at me with fearful eyes, and then shuffled behind me. "Grace, poppet, what's wrong?"

She shook her head and took two more steps backwards. "No… I don't want to go."

"It's all right. Papa got ahead of himself, but daddy is quite all right. Come on, darling." I pulled on her hand once again, but she was more adamantly against going more than before.

"We'll take her, Arthur." Mum stepped forward and took hold of Grace's hand from me. "She probably needs to rest a bit too. Go and see Alfred before us."

Slowly I nodded and then headed into the hospital room Alfred was resting. He had his arm up in a splint and he was sipping water out of a sippy straw. Oh, he looked so lovely. I strode up to him, ready to shout at him, ready to throw fists if I had to, but instead I collapsed on top of him in relieved tears.

"Oh, hey, babe, I'm sorry!" Alfred hugged me with his good arm, patting my back. "I totally broke my promise, I'm sorry! But I'm ok."

"You stupid, bloody twat! I hate you! You always _do_ this!"

"I don't mean to," Alfred laughed. "Really!"

"I know. But I still… Oh, I don't know what to do with you." I stroked Alfred's hair back as I smiled down at him. He knew I didn't mean it. He always seemed to know.

"You're going to have to keep me," Alfred joked. We stayed close to one another, reassuring ourselves this wasn't so bad. "Hey, sweetheart…? You know how I… Look, I'm sorry I pushed you to get out more and get a job… That was… I was just worried about you."

"I know, love," I said. "I appreciate the apology… Thank you…"

"I didn't mean to force you, but…" Alfred bit his lip. Then, he kissed my forehead and stroked my hand. "Well, shit, you had me freakin' out there. All you did, all day, was sit on your computer and overthink everything. I wanted you to get out to clear your head, you know? Give you something else to think about."

I nodded and smiled. "Yes, I understand. It's all right, darling. That was…quite awhile ago. I can't believe you remember such a conversation."

Alfred breathed a nervous laugh. "W-well, it's just been on my mind, that's all. You were pretty upset with me after that."

I brushed his hair back again and kissed his forehead like he had mine. "But I'm not now."

It then dawned on Alfred that our daughter was still outside. "Where's Grace? Isn't she coming in?"

"Ah, I think she's afraid." I turned towards the door, but looked back at Alfred. "Shall I go get her?"

"Yeah, I wanna see her."

I returned to the hallway. Mum and dad had occupied the seats just a little down from the hospital room. The other firemen loitered near the vending machine, making small talk, but otherwise keeping to themselves. Mum had Grace's head on her lap and she was stroking her hair. She looked pitiful.

"Grace, poppet," I started. I squatted next to her so we could be eye level. "Come on inside. Daddy's just fine. He wants to see you."

Grace shook her head, and then turned her face into mum's legs. "No… You're lying."

"L-lying?" I blinked. "What? Poppet, I wouldn't lie to you."

"It's a trick," Grace mumbled. "Daddy is… You always said if daddy comes here… that means he's died."

"When did I ever say such a thing…?" While it's never been a secret I constantly worried about such days, I know I had never voiced them aloud for my daughter to overhear. I feared she would have this exact reaction.

"You wrote it," Grace sniffled. She peeked back at me with one watery eye while the other remained hidden. "I saw it. You know how you write down your thoughts to clear your head? I saw it."

Often when I found myself stumped over what to write next for a novel, I would scribble down my thoughts as a means to silence everything. It was a form of meditating. I normally left the notebooks in my drawer at my desk, but the one Grace referred to must have been left out for her to see. I felt guilty she had been exposed to one of my darkest fears, and now it had brushed off of her.

"Grace. Come here." I held my arms open invitingly.

She hesitated, but then carefully climbed into my arms. She curled into a ball as I picked her up as if she were a baby again. After putting her head against my shoulder, I began to rock her back and forth and rub her back. She soon calmed down.

"Do you want to see daddy?" I asked quietly. Grace could only nod.

That was the first day I knew Grace hadn't trusted me before.

* * *

When Grace was six, I decided it was time to show my face again. I published a new book, the first since Grace had been born, but it didn't get nearly as much acclaim and attention as I had expected. Nancy wouldn't let this stay as such, so she and my agent arranged for me to appear in interviews in order to promote the book, but most reporters only wanted to ask about Grace. I arrived on the Ellen DeGeneres show for the first time in five years and showed off photos of her and Alfred to help ease everyone off of my back.

But one morning, Nancy called and exclaimed, "Today wants a scoop!"

Originally I wanted to bring my family, but Grace was in school and Alfred had to stay and watch her. It would be my first time I'd be away from Grace for more than a day. My agent had also managed a book signing while I was in New York City, so I would be away for the entire weekend. Knowing this, my heart clenched in anxiety. It wasn't that I couldn't do it, but that I didn't like the idea.

I hated knowing that while I enjoyed the fact my daughter was growing up, I also didn't like the fact she was growing older.

Grace was visibly upset when I left her side at the airport. While I hated to see her cry, it was touching to know she loved me so much. Alfred wasn't nearly as outwardly upset, but he did kiss me harder on the lips and his hands lingered a little longer on my back when we stopped hugging. I pecked him afterwards as a promise to return.

Through-out the plane ride, I thought of my family. What they were doing, if Alfred remembered to buy more milk for breakfast, or if Grace had a good day at school. Lately, she'd been coming home a little bummed because the children at her elementary were starting to turn away from her. She was confused as she thought she had done nothing wrong, and in all actuality, she had. It was the issue of the other children's parents starting to poison their minds with the idea that Grace was unnatural because she was an adopted Latina of two gay "unmarried" men. Alfred and I had never been confronted on this issue, but many times when I arrived at Grace's school to pick her up, I felt intense eyes on my back and caught many mothers sneering my way.

Alfred and I had discussed what we should do should the matter get out of hand, and we could never settle on anything. We didn't want to switch schools, and we certainly weren't going to move. Unless it became something much worse than it was now, we agreed Grace would stay put until it was absolutely necessary to move her out of that environment.

That night, when I reached my hotel, I rang home. My family was excited to hear I had arrived safely. It was odd for me to realize, finally, that after all this time, I had a family.

* * *

"_Culture Fair Day!_" the orange paper read. It stared at me on the table when I came home. Grace must've brought it from school. I had been out that evening with some new friends, so Alfred had picked her up seeing as it was his day off. With my renewed popularity I had actually managed to garner a social life, something I'm certain Alfred was very happy about. He might have apologized about pushing all those years ago, but his body language and subtle hints jabbed me whenever I lingered too long at home.

I picked up the flyer and read it. The fair was in two weeks, parents were encouraged to volunteer, and food was optional, but advised. Grace was required to participate at the booth of her culture and explain anything she knew of it. It sounded fun, but glancing at the bottom I noticed Grace had written "America? England? Mexico?" and my heart clenched.

Alfred and I were constantly reminding Grace of her heritage, and here in L.A. it was good to keep that connection. However, we also showed her our own heritages. Alfred came from a proud line of Americans that boosted their involvement in the Revolutionary War (something he constantly reminded me about come every July 4th). My lineage went back even further, all deeply immersed in English history, although I couldn't pinpoint when the Kirkland line first emerged. It was no wonder Grace was torn between her two adoptive cultures and her own ethnicity. The problem was whether or not Alfred pushed Grace to decided, and I knew which one she would be forced to pick.

Grace was dancing in her bedroom when I found her. She had recently joined a group a year ago and it quickly became her passion. All of that dancing in front of Dora must have really paid off.

I chuckled as she bounced to and fro to the beat of some pop song. "Poppet?"

Grace turned suddenly, surprised to see me. She paused her CD. "Hi papa!"

" 'Ello love. I saw the Culture Fair flyer. Are you having trouble deciding?"

Grace nodded. "Yeah… I wanna do all three, but I can only pick one. It's not fair."

"It's you _want_, poppet. Not wanna." I sat at her desk and patted my knee. She clamored to sit on my lap. "Most things in life aren't fair. Why not think of the aspects of each culture you like?"

"As…pects?" Often I taught Grace more sophisticated words than was taught at school, earning her a higher vocabulary, but sometimes it slipped my mind she was still a child.

"He means what do you like most about each culture?" Alfred came in with wet hair, having just finished with a shower. He kissed me quickly on the lips.

"Yes, thank you darling."

"Well, I like lots a things!"

"Lots of things," I corrected again. Grace had taken on a form of my and Alfred's accents. Sometimes she would slip into sounding more American, and other times she sounded more English. I tended to catch her mistakes more easily because of this.

Grace thought for a moment and then suddenly reached for a piece of paper on her desk. "I know! I can write them down! Like when papa does and a story and writes about the characters!"

"Oh, so smart!" Alfred pat her head.

"Okay, Mexico… England… and America…" She made three columns with lines going straight down the lined paper with each country titled at the top. "I only wanna- I mean, want to do England. Not the UK."

"There's a difference?" Alfred asked. I jabbed him in the side with my elbow. He laughed, and I somehow earned another kiss.

"All right, so what do you like about Mexico?" I asked. I moved to slip out from under Grace so she could sit on her chair.

"Um… Tacos! And… Español! Día de los Muertos! The dresses! Tamales! Chichen Itza! Mayan culture!"

"Wonderful. Now of England?"

"Tea, and scones, and the Queen, and Big Ben. London, and the Eye! Shakespeare and Sherlock!"

Alfred laughed nervously. "Wow, so much. Um, how about America?"

"Nervous?" I asked teasingly.

"No way! She lives here! Of course she'll put down the most!"

"Okay, well there's hamburgers and hot dogs, and there's L.A. and the Revolutionary Way and… Um…" Grace stared at the paper as she chewed on her lower lip. "Um…"

I looked at her list. It was saddening to see the comparison of so much in the Mexico and England side, whereas the America side had only four items. Alfred grew somber at seeing this. I saw him deflate as our daughter struggled to find anything else she liked about his country.

"What else?!" Grace turned in her seat to look at the two of us.

"Oh, well, what of San Francisco and the Grand Canyon and Yosemite?" I offered. Even if it was to stack against my culture, I hated seeing Alfred with those puppy dog eyes. He looked so pathetic.

"Oh yeah! And all of the states! And Lincoln, Washington, and Franklin! And baseball! And football!"

That seemed to life Alfred's spirits a little. I smiled his way when something struck me. "Alfred, if I may?"

We left Grace to finish her list uninterrupted. We headed to the kitchen to start on dinner.

"Darling, let's not push her too hard. This is all meant for fun."

"But you saw how little she said about America!" Alfred began chopping carrots and onions. "Why doesn't she know more?"

"Perhaps she is jaded? If you're from an area, you tend to forget things just because it skipped your mind. You were too busy thinking about something important to remember the details." I kissed Alfred's cheek in reassurance. "Don't fret, love."

"Yeah…"

We continued to cook when Grace joined us. She had made her decision.

"I wanna do America, but wear an Hispanic dress and bring English food!" she declared proudly. "I am American, but I'm also Mexican and English! I'm a melting pot too!"

Alfred scooped her up into his arms and kissed her cheeks until she cried out in laughter. "Are you really eight?! You're so smart!"

I joined them and laughed heartily. I had realized when watching Alfred that family wasn't about competition. A little here and there was healthy, and fun, but only when it was sport. To treat it as something serious was unwise. Compromise was always the answer. And while it wasn't the easiest route to take, it brought about a smoother end.

Of course, that didn't mean this family would keep to that, especially when secrets were withheld.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: I am sincerely sorry that I didn't update last week. Something very personal happened to me, and I was unable to do any update. For now it seems all updates will be on track. Just three chapters left! Hope you enjoyed it! See you next week!

As always, please feel free to follow my tumblr at 2kokoro. Thank you.


	5. Teenaged

Alfred began to stop touching me when Grace was twelve years old. I noticed it when he faced away from me when we slept. He always held me and kissed my lips just before dozing off. As Alfred's interest in me dwindled, millions of reasons why popped into my head. And the weeks wore on with little to no change. My main suspicion was that Alfred still disliked my lack of a "real" job. A year earlier I had started a blog and created a Twitter. I mainly talked about my life and posted pictures of me and my family, but I also posted about important issues in the LGBT world. It was good to be a part of the modern world, but it also brought about that job Alfred was so keen on me getting.

My blog was noticed by the L.A. Times, and they contacted me to see if I would be a daily advice columnist on their website. It would be just like Dear Abby, but only for LGBT questions and only about coming out, relationships, or misunderstandings of the community that heterosexuals might have; not my personal life. I didn't mind terribly, seeing as I had done something similar shortly before Grace was born, and I was to come in to the office for a few hours every day. However, I enjoyed the fact not many journalists cared about my appearance in the building. Not everyone knew I was Arthur Kirkland, and some knew, but didn't care. It was nice to have such anonymity.

I could see Alfred's point in his wanting me to work. It felt satisfying to contribute to society. And I always felt better when I knew I had helped someone struggling with their identity. So then why had it not worked with garnering Alfred's attention?

Alfred was as passive as ever. If he had work in the morning, he would come home in the evening and plop down in front of the telly with a beer until dinner. Afterwards, I would work on my blog or a story, but Alfred would stay with Grace in her room until bed. There was no interaction with me, and when there was, it always felt forced.

To top it off, Grace was beginning to feel the effects of adolescence. She was more standoffish than Alfred, and became increasingly worse the more time she holed herself up in her room to surf the Internet. Slowly, I realized I was an outcast in my own home.

One morning, I had a few rare moments alone when I realized I could take Grace to school. Since I had a job now, Grace had taken to riding the bus. Maybe this could be my chance to bond with her. Quickly, I grabbed my keys and jacket, and then rushed to Grace's room. As usual, I found her on her computer. Whenever I asked what she was doing, I earned an eyeroll and the typical teenager response: "You wouldn't understand."

"Poppet?" She looked over at me, seemingly put off by my appearance. She had changed so much in the last few years. Gone were the pigtails, replaced by shoulder-length wavy hair, make-up, and pierced ears. That didn't bother me so much as the fact that I hardly saw her smile anymore. "I have time this morning. Would you like me to take you to school like I used to?"

Another eyeroll. "No. I like to sit with my friends."

"O-oh." I deflated slightly. Glancing at her Hello Kitty clock by her nightstand, I got an idea. "How about I make you lunch instead? I'm sure the school food isn't…"

Grace seemed even more upset by this as she grimaced. "No way! You'll probably mess it up anyways."

I was hurt. Grace was never so honest with me about my cooking. She and Alfred were usually subtle about their dislike of certain dishes of mine. It wasn't a secret that I couldn't cook well, but to hear it said so bluntly made me actually step back in pain. Grace, however, didn't change her stoic expression.

She got up, grabbed her backpack, and strode out of her bedroom right past me. "I gotta go."

There was nothing I could do. It all felt too surreal. Had she really gone from my sweet, smart, and charming little lady into a sour, bitter, and cruel person? If I raised my voice against it, she would dismiss it. If I talked to Alfred about it, he would ignore me or tell me to calm down. A black hole opened up around me, clinging to my back, and pulling me backwards right out of reality.

Still, all I could do was walk after Grace to see her off at the door. She didn't even say good-bye or spare me a glance as she left. I stared at the wall numbly as a sinking feeling began to weigh me down, crushing me until my legs buckled and I slipped to the floor. But before I could shatter, I noticed Grace had left her homework lying on the kitchen table.

I jumped back up, wiping at a few stray tears, and snatched the paper up. Her bus was scheduled to arrive any second now, so I only had a short window to get down the four flights of stairs and reach her. I clamored down the hallway to the stairway, practically tumbled over my feet, and then burst through the front door of the lobby, waving her homework to her just before she stepped on the yellow school bus.

"Grace!" I shouted. She almost didn't stop, but when she saw her friends snickering at me, she turned with a pale face. I rushed to the door and thrust her paper out to her. "Here! You almost forgot this!"

"Oh… Thanks." She took the paper glumly. Again, she didn't say good-bye, nor did she thank me for my efforts. Instead she trudged down the aisle of the bus to her friends and sat by the window.

I looked up at her with a forced smile and waved. She stared at me lamely before looking away in annoyance. The window by her was down and I could hear her friends laughing at me or her, or both of us.

"Your dad is so weird!"

"Oh my God, look at those eyebrows!"

"I can't believe you have to live with him!"

Grace huffed, irritated. "Me either…"

Again, that black hole returned, and I stood outside of my body, watching numbly, as the bus drove off. I don't remember walking back to the flat, or calling in sick to work and then climbing into bed, but I remember waking up in a cold sweat in the bathroom with tissues littering the floor and dried tears caking my face.

When Alfred came home that night, he didn't notice.

This was the start of the end for us.

* * *

One night, I was lucky. Alfred came home from work late at night. I tried not to stay up, tried to tell myself I was getting too old to stay up past midnight in anticipation for his safe return, and tried to remind myself that if Alfred didn't care so much, then I shouldn't either. It never worked.

Alfred was more tired than ever as he shuffled into our room and pulled his shirt off before sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. I had the lights off and was lying in bed, pretending to be asleep, wondering if he would turn away from me in bed again, but that night he put his hand on my foot. I felt eyes on me, and I thought it romantic that perhaps he was watching me as I slept. He pulled back the covers and pressed himself against me. I felt arms engulf me. My heart was pounding in my chest. It was sad to know our relationship had dwindled to this, and just having him near me made me react like we were a new couple all over again.

I gasped in surprise, unable to hold back the pleasure of having him hold me. Alfred looked down at me as my eyes opened. "You're awake?"

"Yes…!" I breathed. This might just be a dream, I reminded myself. "I… I'm always awake when you come home late…"

Alfred didn't smile, but I felt him sag in relief against me. He put my head under his chin and interlaced his legs around mine. I felt safe and loved then. It was as if I had dreamt up all of the bad times of this past year. Perhaps it really wasn't so bad. Maybe I just needed to talk to Alfred more and get him to open up more.

The truth of the matter was, however, I was terrified of what he would say. He had physically begun to reject me, so if I asked him what was going on, would he vocally express his disinterest? Would he cast me aside like Grace had? The thought alone often sent me into panic attacks, so I tried not to dwell on it.

Tonight, however, as he held me like before and kissed my head, I felt tears prickle my eyes.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered in the still of the night. "I'm home safe…"

"I'm…still sweetheart?" I couldn't help but ask. It had been something that had nagged me in the back of my head since he had stopped calling me any of my old pet nicknames. While I had once found them obnoxious, I now looked forward to them.

"What? Yeah, of course you are." Alfred then kissed the top of my head. I began to shake as I felt the grasp on myself start to slip. I almost went into silent hysterics in his arms, but Alfred noticed me crying. "Hey, what's this all about? Why're you crying?"

"I just… I'm so happy… I'm still your sweetheart…"

Alfred chuckled as he wiped my tears. I saw him smile despite my blurry vision and the darkness and all of the pain. "Of course you are. Am I still you're darling?"

"Oh yes, yes, of course!" I kissed him hard on the mouth, reassuring myself this wasn't a dream.

It wasn't. He was real. How could I think he didn't still love me? It was simple- just a breakdown of communication. Well I aimed to change that.

"Darling," I started after I broke our kiss. I nuzzled my face into his chest and inhaled his scent. "Why have we grown so far apart…? You hardly talk to me anymore… What's going on…?"

"It's…" Alfred paused. It felt like he was ready to tell me, and I waited with bated breathe. For a moment, I realized this could be it. My nightmare could become reality and Alfred could tell me he actually didn't love me anymore, but he was holding me here and he had kissed me and there was no way it was possible. Was it?

"Babe… is there anything _you_ need to tell me?" he asked after a time. I pulled my head back to study him.

I should have seen it, but being apart from him intimately had restricted my ability to read him as well as I could have. There were tired, dark circles under his eyes, wrinkles forming on his forehead from worry, and the markings of crow's feet already appearing. The vibrant blue hue of his eyes had dwindled. Had I truly missed that much in such a short amount of time? It made my heart ache to see he had hidden himself away from me so expertly.

"Alfred, my love, no. I fear it is you who is hiding something from me. Please… talk to me. I love you."

He opened his mouth to speak, and I inhaled in anticipation, but the phone rang. It wasn't Alfred's mobile, nor was it mine, so my first thoughts didn't jump to the conclusion it was possibly an emergency. It was the home phone. The moment was gone, and Alfred closed back up.

"Stay here," he said instead. He quickly got out of bed and headed into the living room to answer the phone. I sighed irritably, but got up to follow him. Whoever it was that would dare to call at one in the morning had better have a good reason.

Alfred was at the counter with the phone to his ear when I came into the kitchen. Instantly I knew something was wrong by his body language. I may have missed his subtle facial changes all of these months, but I could still read the signs of someone in extreme danger. I rushed to his side, and out of habit he took one of my hands in his. I began to stroke the back of his hand with my thumb as I watched him. He was starting to shake while he focused on one spot on the wooden floor of our kitchen.

"Mom…?" he breathed out in a quiet voice. "Mom… Mom, it's okay. We're coming. It's okay… We'll be there as soon as we can, okay? Just, we're on our way. I'll bring Arthur and Grace and we'll be there. It's… It's okay… Dad will be okay…"

I put my free hand over my mouth and my eyes widened in shock. My movements triggered Alfred's attention to shift to me. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I nodded in understanding, but when I tried to slip free to book airline tickets, he held onto me tightly by the hand. Instead of protesting, I waited until he was off of the phone.

"Mom, I promise you… Yes… I love you too."

I didn't even have a second to breathe before I was engulfed in all of Alfred. He pressed his face into my shoulder and squeezed my entire frame tight. I felt my feet lift up off of the ground. All I could do, and all I wanted to do, was hold that man back just as tightly. He may have distanced himself from me so suddenly, but he still loved me. I knew then that whatever it was could be easily dropped when matters of our family's safety were threatened.

"Alfred…?" I whispered at length. "What happened…? Is dad…?"

"He had a heart attack," Alfred replied, his voice muffled against my skin. "He's… Mom's so scared and I… Baby, I don't know what…"

"Sh…" I eased out of Alfred's hold, and my feet touched back down to the ground. "Darling… Come on. Keep calm, love. You go and pack. I'll arrange for the flight and wake up Grace. It'll be okay."

Alfred nodded, and he managed a small smile. I think he felt relieved by my being there for him, even after our estranged relationship as of late. He took me back into his arms and kissed me in a way I hadn't felt in months. I welcomed it, parting my lips for his tongue and interlacing my fingers into his hair. It was brief, but the moment lasted far longer than that as it settled into our skin and reverberated within our bones.

It was the energy we needed as we boarded a plane to Boston with a very irritable pre-teen. And it was the only thing that kept us together as Alfred took my hand and we found mum crying in the hospital waiting room. Samuel Jones had died from a heart attack two hours before we had landed.

I watched as Alfred broke down in front of me for the second time since we had met; the first being when Matthew died. Both times, Alfred hadn't been there for either one of their deaths, but I had been there for the aftermath. I held Alfred as he cried, as he clung to me, knowing full well he wished it was his father he was holding. I wished the same for him. How I wanted to ease all of the stress from him.

He had a good reason to put distance between us, he had to have. And there was always stress from work. If this had been the holiday season I would have chalked up to the usual stress he had, but it was nearing the end of October. Right now, whatever I was feeling was put on hold. I could wait to ask Alfred later. He needed me right now, and I was more than happy to give myself to him.

* * *

Grace's thirteenth birthday was hard on all of us. It was the first birthday of hers without a phone call from her grandfather. Mum called and wished her happiness and promised there was a card in the mail with money for her. It did little to soothe Grace's teenaged angst. She still put distance between me and her, only relaxing while we were in Boston to help mum with the funeral and getting her back on her feet. During that time, I felt things would repair between me and my family, but it only severed the ties more.

I was coming to the end of my line. Whatever I did or didn't do, it wasn't enough for either Alfred or Grace. After dad's death, I tried to be there for Alfred, but I also wanted him to be more involved with me. I asked him to help around the flat a little more given how I now had a job and couldn't constantly be on the upkeep of the place. Not only that, but I had been asked to do a few more speeches for the LGBT community, so I was traveling again.

How different it was from when Grace was a child. When I called home to let them know I had made it safely, it was almost a lost cause. Grace didn't come to the phone, she didn't cry for me to come home soon, and she certainly didn't say she missed me. Alfred was even less receptive. One night they didn't even answer when I called home, despite the fact I was in Florida for two days.

I tried to wrap my mind around just what had happened, but nothing added up. There had been no fights to pinpoint any sudden change, and there certainly had been no confrontations to strike up any possible ideas that poisoned the mind.

In the end, I came home from my trip very angry. I felt threatened. There was something going on, and I had had enough. In the days that followed my trip, I met up with two friends I had made over the past few years; Lance and Juliet. Lance was openly gay and Juliet was a feminist. It was always interesting when we all got together.

The two noticed my mood change when we met up for lunch the Wednesday after I had returned from Florida.

"Girl, you look pissed," Lance said, slightly shocked. "What happened?"

I took my seat across from them and quickly ordered tea when the busboy dropped off my menu. I sighed and then explained to them everything that had happened, starting from my notice of Alfred's inattention, Grace's adolescent intolerance, dad's death, and my feeling of there being an inability for me to do anything. When I finished, I chugged the cool water on the table while I let my news sink it. In retrospect, it was rather harsh of me to dump so much on my friends so suddenly, but they didn't care. Unlike my family, they wanted to hear if something was wrong.

"Oh God, that's horrible!" Juliet put her hand on mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You do not deserve that."

"What is up with Al?" Lance crossed his arms as he frowned. He had met Alfred once before on a rare occasion Alfred joined me at one of my speeches. Lance liked Alfred, mainly for how handsome he is, but Alfred left feeling very uncomfortable from their meeting. It was odd that he didn't like someone. "I thought he worshipped you."

I snorted as I sipped at my now lukewarm tea. "He never did, but in any case, he's gone from loving to stone cold."

"Is it because of his father's death?" Juliet asked lightly.

"I've tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but this problem arose before then. If I had to pinpoint an exact time frame, I'd say it was years ago when he first brought up my 'unemployment'."

Juliet grimaced at this as if she had tasted something sour. "That was so wrong of him to do to you. So what if he has a 'real job'? For God's sake, if it wasn't for _Hospital Flowers_ you two wouldn't have afforded all of the money for the apartment, Grace's baby things, and saving for her college fund. It's like when a husband gets angry his wife brings home more money than him, so he blames the wife, in this case, you."

I sighed again. "I know…"

"What ever the case is for Al actin' like a jerk, you need to be strong about it." Lance put his hand on my other hand. "It's totally obvious he doesn't trust you."

Juliet nodded vehemently. "Lance is right!"

"If that's the case…" I looked down at the two hands on top of mine and wished desperately they were the hands of my family instead. To come so close to having that happy atmosphere, I was scared of what the answer would be if I asked Alfred bluntly what was wrong if that meant this lifestyle would be violently ripped from me.

Of course, I had already watched it slowly disintegrate over the course of the past few years. What did it matter if it was an implosion?

Later on that day, I came home and collapsed on my bed. Lunch had emotionally drained me. Thoughts whirled in my head of assumptions about what the truth was. They then changed to memories of Grace when she was young. She loved to run away from me and have me chase her. It was constantly a game. If I didn't follow or she couldn't see me, she'd begin to cry. We could never be apart for too long.

My precious girl that I used to fear could be taken away from us. Where had she gone? She'd traded plush cats and butterflies for boys and make-up and social networks that inhibited her ability to actually be social. I had no idea what school was like for her, no clue what her grades were, or if she still liked to dance as she had when she was so young. That was more terrifying a thought than what drove Alfred away from me.

As my body drifted between the edge of sleep and conscious, I heard Alfred come home. He checked the bedroom first and found me lying on my stomach with my face in the pillow. I wanted to turn and say hello, but the heaviness of sleep prevented me from acting right away.

I heard him fumble with something on the nightstand, and then after a moment, I turned to acknowledge him. However, I froze when I saw him holding my mobile, reading it.

"Alfred?"

He nearly dropped the phone as he quickly put it back down, as if he had never picked it up in the first place. "Whoa, you're awake! I thought you were sleeping."

"What were you doing?" I turned fully around and sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Were you reading something?"

"What? No! Why would you think that?" He tried to laugh it off, but when I reached for my phone, he jumped to stop me. "Babe, it's fine! Just! Don't! C'mon, Arthur. Please?"

I ignored him and unlocked the screen. My text messages appeared on the screen. I stood up and stared at Alfred accusingly. "You were reading my messages! Why the bloody hell would you invade my privacy like that?!"

"I just! You know! I thought…"

"What?!" I snapped. "_What_ did you think?!"

Alfred hesitated, staring at me uncertainly, before he dropped all pretenses and finally explained himself. "I just…thought you had a text message to meet someone somewhere…"

"You mean…for a meet up or something?" I asked slowly, fearing what he was insinuating. Oh God, please _not that_.

Alfred blushed and looked to the floor briefly. Then, he looked me right in the eyes and I knew him to be sincere. "No. I thought…like a lover or something."

At first I wanted to laugh, maybe even just chuckle or something to ease the tension in the room. All of this came down to his thinking I was cheating on him? That in and of itself should have been enough to make me laugh it all off and quell his fears as completely baseless, but there was no humor in this situation. It made sense now: why he was angry I traveled, why he didn't like some of my male friends, why he grew so cold to me. It was as Lance said, he didn't trust me.

The black hole I had felt just months earlier returned from my heart. It seeped up through my body, sucking out all of the color from my veins, and leaving me as a shell of who I was as I realized this was the end. If my husband couldn't trust me, then what kind of relationship was this?

Gripping the phone, I shoved Alfred aside. I had to get away from him. The anger consumed me until I couldn't speak. As luck would have it, however, Grace had decided to come home just then. She was blowing a bubble with her gum, had her headphones on, and was on her blasted iPod again, browsing her social sites. She didn't even care to say hello to me or look up. Seeing her disrespectful state made something in me snap.

"I have _had_ it with this family!" I shouted. Alfred had followed me, and Grace looked up in surprise. I pointed first at Alfred, spitting all the venom I had in me right at him. "HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF AN AFFAIR YOU ARSEHOLE! I did _everything_ you wanted of me! I went out and got a bloody job and made some fucking friends, and yet _you're_ the one not fucking me or even _touching_ me! How could you even THINK such a thing from me?!"

Alfred frowned. Briefly, he looked ready to start shouting back, but there was a flash of sadness in his eyes. He backed down. "Well… I saw that picture online…"

"_What picture_?!" I seethed.

Without saying a word, Grace held out her iPod to show me a photograph on the Internet. It was of me and some unknown man kissing. The quality was poor, and it was obvious there were two different light sources. The fact Alfred believed a photo from the Internet before consulting me about any of this sealed the deal on the pathetic reality of this situation.

"I cannot _believe_ you!" I turned back to Alfred, snatching Grace's iPod from her hand. She yelped in surprise as it tugged her headphones off. Thrusting the screen into Alfred's face, I continued to yell. "How the hell could you put this photograph above our trust?! Why didn't you just ASK me?!"

Alfred rubbed his elbow as he shifted his weight. He was stalling. "I just… You know… I'm hardly home and all of these guys are hot…"

There, I began to laugh. "Oh ho, so it's my fault that I have hot friends? Were you not the one who told me to make them in the first place?"

"Yeah, but not hot and gay ones!"

"Don't you dare…" I started, backing away.

Alfred inhaled sharply. Then, he gripped me by the arms and shook me slightly. "DON'T I DARE WHAT?! ALL YOU DO IS COMMAND GRACE AND I AROUND LIKE WE'RE YOUR LITTLE SLAVES! You've always treated me this way! Holding it above my head that you wrote this amazing book and bring home tons of money-"

"Don't put me down for my success because you can't handle it!" I shouted back.

Grace had scuttled up against the wall. She had never heard us argue or raise our voices above that of scolding. To see us get so in each other's faces and shriek until our voices cracked scared her. She could only watch, unable to say anything in anyone's defense.

I threw my hands up in defeat, throwing Grace's iPod at Alfred's chest. "HERE! Take that and look up more fake pictures!"

Then, I turned to vent more on Grace. I missed the pale color to her face and her wide, watery eyes. "And YOU! You're a horrible, disrespectful, person! What happened to my little lady?! Why don't you look up and acknowledge the world for once?! Stop hiding away on the Internet! Do you really hate the fact we're gay _that bloody much?!_"

"ARTHUR!" Alfred bellowed.

"I can't stay here any longer!" I shouted.

That stopped everything. Alfred's shoulders fell with his bravado and Grace began to tear up in her corner. "What…?"

Alfred reached for me again, but just the sight of him disgusted me. I jerked away and headed for the door. I heard Alfred trail after me, but I turned sharply and pointed a finger right in his face.

"Don't you _dare_ follow me! I don't want to see you! You're filth! To think, after all these years you said you loved me and you trusted me, and yet you never wanted to publically say we were married. This was all a lie!"

"No…"

"No, it was, Alfred! Think about it! You say you love me, that you're my hero, and yet you let some _petty_ reasons control you to the point you won't trust me or touch me! So now it's come to this! I can't believe you! I don't even know you! I can't believe you just actually accused me…for the past few years… that I…"

I choked up. I wanted to keep up a strong and proud front, but I was crumbling. The more I said it, the louder it rang true in my ears.

"If you can't trust me, then you can't love me."

"N-no! That's not true!" Alfred tried, but I stopped him when I opened the door behind me.

"Without trust, there can't be love." I was crying now. It was shameful, and I felt ugly, but I had to leave. All of this was drowning me in more emotions than I could understand. The black hole had left, but now I was a torrent of emptiness that unleashed everything. I could not be stopped. "I have to go."

"No… No please, Arthur! ARTHUR, PLEASE, I LOVE YOU!"

But I was gone. I ran down the hallway, opted for the stairway, and tried to get down to the bottom floor before I collapsed, but I wasn't strong enough. On the second landing, I fell against the wall and started to cry. I pounded the hard wall, imagining it was that horrid, fake picture. My wrist began to hurt and my breath came out in short spurts. I had to keep it together.

Somehow I did as I drove to a hotel on the outskirts of the city and checked in for a single room. It would be like when I traveled, yes. That's what I told myself. Only, I had no bags, and I had no clear timeframe of how long I would be there. And I had no family to return to.

Alfred's betrayal was more than his stupidity of not communicating with me, but it was the fact he thought such a thing about me in the first place. He actually thought that I, a man that wrote of his love and constantly advised other homosexuals by using examples of our marriage, would actually sleep with someone else. That he didn't come to me in the first place struck right through my heart.

Here I thought someone would actually stay in my life, but Alfred was just like the rest. He disowned me.

I fell onto the bed in a heap of my own tears, and cried loudly into the pillow. I thought I might hyperventilate if I wasn't careful, although, at this point, nothing mattered. My shamble of a marriage, my ruined relationship with my daughter, and my future were all gone. At forty, I was on my own, again.

All the while, my mobile was constantly ringing. Why I didn't turn it off, I don't know. Perhaps it reassured me that Alfred was looking for me. He was trying to call me. There was hope in my heart that maybe he did still love me. But it was squashed the longer I lay there crying. I told myself to stop. Stop because he had long ago.

Then, the ringtone changed. That was Grace.

Quickly, I answered. She may have been crude these past few years, but the memory of what I had said to her before I left made me feel disgusting all over again. I should not have acted so wildly and said such untrue things. Rude or not, she was still my daughter, and I loved her, even if I knew she did not me.

I didn't say anything as I answered. I heard her sobbing on the other end. My heart clenched the last of my happiness out.

"Papa…?" she croaked. "Papa, where are you…? Are you hurt…? Where are you…? Please come home… Daddy left and I'm all alone and I don't know where you are and I'm sorry! Papa, please! I love you! I do! I don't hate you!"

"How can I believe you…?" I murmured. Numbness began to seep into my body much like it had before I started to fall asleep just an hour ago. Oh, how far away that seemed. "You… You don't trust me either…"

"No, that's not true!" Grace began crying harder. Her voice was louder and slightly muffled. I pictured her curled up in a ball under her bed sheets as she clutched her old baby giraffe. I shook my head to rid myself of the image. "No, I just… Please, papa… Please… Come home… I'm all alone."

"Why…?"

Grace cried harder for a few minutes and I waited. I hated hearing her cry, but I knew she needed this. I needed this.

Then, "I hate school… All I do…is get picked on… For having gay daddies… I just want to be happy… So I faked that I hated you guys… That I didn't like you two being gay. I told everyone you're bad parents and you fuck so loud I can hear you and that I'm grossed out by it… Everyone thinks because you're gay… I'm gay… But… I'm not…! I just…"

"Is that why you said those things on the bus that day…?" I asked slowly.

"Yes," Grace wept. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it! I miss you, papa! Please, come home. I want you to hold me like you used to."

Thinking of Grace alone did disturb me. She might be thirteen, but I hated thinking of her ever being alone. It was a thought all parents were haunted by.

"Stay there…"

"Papa?"

"I'm coming home."

The night was cold and brisk, but I ignored it. I hadn't grabbed a jacket and was still wearing my shorts from the earlier mildly warm day. I had really grown accustomed to Southern California weather. The apartment complex physically looked the same as when I had left, but to me, it now seemed darker. I almost turned to run back into my car, but I couldn't leave Grace when she was waiting.

I said such cruel things to her. She didn't deserve it. She was only a teenager.

The door was unlocked. I was deeply unnerved by this. Living in L.A. for all of these years, even in a "good" neighborhood like ours, I was still nervous of break-ins, especially when I knew my thirteen year old daughter was inside. But, then I thought that perhaps she had unlocked the door for me.

The flat was quiet when I entered. There was no sound of Grace crying or Alfred begging for me to come back. There was only the ringing in my ears echoing from my memories. I didn't even turn on the lights as I made my way to Grace's bedroom. She was in her bed, curled up, clutching the giraffe just as I pictured over the phone. She wasn't thirteen, but rather six years old, scared of monsters under the bed and crying for her daddies to comfort her.

My instincts took over as I rushed to her side. She flung herself onto me and curled up into a ball in my lap. I held her like she was a child once more. She shook in my arms, and I knew she still was. Somewhere in there, Grace was still the tiny baby I once rocked in a chair to sleep every night. If only I could hold onto this moment forever, I thought. I didn't need anything else. Or anyone.

"Is it my fault…?" Grace whimpered.

"What?" I stroked her hair.

"That you left… is it my fault…? I didn't know it was a fake… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Grace began to cry harder, much like I had in the hotel room shortly before she called. "Daddy fell on the ground when you left and cried and I felt… And then he ran after you. I didn't know where you went or where he is…"

"Shh," I soothed. I began rocking her gently. It was pitiful of me, but yes, I did find slight enjoyment at being able to calm my daughter in such a familiar way once again. "No, it wasn't your fault… I don't blame you… I'm sorry for yelling and saying such things to you."

"Then you won't be mad for this…?"

I heard the door close behind me, and froze. I didn't turn around, didn't even open my eyes. I pretended he wasn't there, but I felt eyes staring at my back and could hear him panting. He had run all the way back home.

"You told…?" I whispered.

"I'm sorry," Grace murmured. She let go of me and moved to get off of my lap.

I was left alone with anxiety creeping up my back. No one spoke first. No one wanted to. Where to start?

"I can't stay," I said finally, settling on an emotion that I picked from the many floating aimlessly around inside of me. "I just… I can't."

"Why?" Alfred asked. His voice croaked and he was still breathing heavily. Unlike with Grace, I couldn't imagine what he looked like right now. All I saw in my head were blue eyes that were, hopefully, struggling with tears.

"Because, I'm so tired. I'm… When it comes down to it, Alfred, you just want me here because it's convenient for you and Grace."

"That's not true!" Alfred yelled.

I tensed visibly, so Alfred sucked in his breath. He waited for a few moments before he spoke again. "No, that's not true. We love you."

"I'm nothing to you," I started with a faint voice. "And I feel so empty now… I've said everything I feel."

"Please, this is just…over a picture and… And I'm stupid. It's my fault."

I shook my head slowly. I still hadn't opened my eyes. "No... I'm at fault too… I pushed you both away by…being so clingy… I just… Don't blame just yourself…"

"Arthur, we can make this work."

"Not right now."

I stood and finally opened my eyes. I turned around to face the man I had lived with for fifteen years, shared my bed with, had my meals with, made love with, and shared my secrets with. And knew he had withheld his anger from me, withheld his love from me, and cast me aside so easily. He didn't look like the same man who had saved me from a burning car, wheeled me around L.A., brought me flowers, and declared naked days like it was a sport. He was older and carried more weight on his shoulders than I'd ever seen before. I felt a pang of guilt and regret because I knew I was hurting him, but he was hurting me too. It was mutual, and we had to be apart to heal before we could rip open the wounds again. If I even wanted that to happen, that is.

"Alfred, it's not about the picture, it's not about you and Grace hiding away, it's not even about the secret… It's about how we have whittled down to this. I have to physically be away from you and you have to conceal yourself from me. I will stay in a hotel and visit Grace when she wants to see me, but I cannot see you. I don't want to. You hurt."

Alfred looked pale, and I feared he might faint. He stood his ground, albeit a little unsteadily, but he nodded and didn't fight me anymore. I kissed Grace on the head and wiped her tears.

"It's better this way," I told her.

Then, I left.

* * *

"Girl, you still look terrible!" Lance commented. It had been four weeks since I moved out and took up residence in a hotel, claiming that there was sewer damage at my house so I could get a cheaper price for the length of time I'd be there. However, I still had no idea how long that would be. "I thought leaving Al would do you some good."

"It…has, but now with Prop 13 I'm running everywhere to fight for it to be abolished."

Juliet rolled her eyes as she sucked on her straw for her soda. "That Prop is as dumb as Prop 8 was. There's no way it'll pass _this_ time."

"Not with Arthur Kirkland as the front spokesman for it! Although, I keep hearing people whisper that Al should be with you. Do you think anyone knows yet?"

I shrugged. Nancy and my PR agent knew of my separation with Alfred, but we all agreed that it was in the best interest of the family and others following me that they not notice anything. That didn't stop people from wondering why I looked different. It was evident that while I was slowly healing from all the emotional wounds, I wasn't happy with the outcome.

Over the course of a few weeks, I returned to the flat when I knew Alfred was at work to collect my things. I paused when I pulled my clothes from the closet, and gently touched Alfred's shirts. How would he feel when he came home that day and saw half of the closet was empty? I gulped down my heart as I moved to finish collecting my things.

Sometimes Grace was there and she would watch silently. I'd treat her to lunch if it was a weekend, or I'd leave her a note saying I still loved her. Once or twice I would check on the food to see what wasn't on the grocery list, and then put it on there. A few times I did their laundry and dusted. I'm not sure why, but it was habit by now. And, a small part of me felt guilt that I had been the one who left.

I could have stayed; slept on the couch and just avoided Alfred like he had me. It had been easy enough when it was him and Grace in her room. I could easily have done the same with my computer and possibly stayed in the bedroom until Alfred went to sleep. But I felt the air was too thick when I was close to Alfred.

There was still that initial tug at my heart to be close to him. I had to resist all the urges to take his hand, stroke his face, and tell him that everything would be all right. How was I to know what the outcome of this would be when I didn't even know myself?

Ever since I moved out I had changed. At first, I thought I'd revert to being a hermit again, but I found I was more active than ever. With protests and speeches and my normal work hours, I hardly had time to be sad. It normally came at night when I slept alone and realized I was really gone. That this was my new life.

Alfred tried to call me after two weeks, and asked if it was better. I told him I needed time. He stopped calling after that.

While I was at lunch with Juliet and Lance, I received the first call from him in weeks. "Oh…It's Alfred."

My heart beat hard in my chest. Was I nervous, excited, or scared? I hadn't heard his voice in so long, I worried that he was fading away from my memories too quickly.

"You gonna answer that?" Lance asked cautiously.

"I had better…" I moved from the table to find a quiet part of the café. I took a few deep breaths, and then answered. "…Hello?"

"...Hi."

I breathed out loudly. Too loudly. My face blushed in embarrassment. I was grateful Alfred couldn't see me. "Yes?"

"Um… I found some things of yours. Did you want to meet me somewhere so I can give it to you or do you want to…?" He sounded different, again. I couldn't place who it was he reminded me of at that moment.

"No, we can meet… How about at the park…?" Another bad memory added to that park. One more couldn't hurt.

"Okay… Are you busy right now?"

"Yes, but I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"…Okay. See you then." He hung up.

I stayed in my small spot for a little longer while I told myself to stay standing. I would not cry.

The seasons were changing and the summer season was fading fast. California had an adversity to four seasons, and really maneuvered around summer and winter, with a two or three week period of fall and spring. At the moment it was teetering on the edge of fall. I clutched my jacket close to my body as a chill wind swept through the air. Anything below sixty and I became a shivering mess. What happened to my thick English skin?

Alfred approached me with a bag in his hand. He was also sporting a jacket. We made eye contact, but said nothing. I remembered now, who it was he reminded me of. It was me. He looked so tired and his eyes were sunken in and there was a pale color to his skin that hadn't been there before. Like me, all of the color had left his veins and he was an empty shell. I saw that same expression every morning I looked in the mirror.

"Here," he said suddenly, breaking our contact. He held out the bag.

I took it and looked inside. It was a few books and my oven mitt and slippers that I guess had been pushed under our bed. They weren't important to me. I looked up at Alfred and thanked him.

"…Can we walk?" Alfred asked. He turned slightly to nod at the pathway that wound around the pond.

I hesitated. He meant "can we talk" and I didn't know if I was ready. Four weeks had been a long time to think about things, but it suddenly felt like it hadn't been. I didn't have my guard back up and my insides felt too raw to get upset about anything heavy. Still, I sort of fancied a walk/talk right about now.

I said nothing and began to follow the path, Alfred joining me by my side. We just enjoyed the breeze and the silence between us, but I noticed the distance more than anything. It was so prominent, so ugly, that I had to look at Alfred to distract me.

"How…is Grace?" I asked at length.

"Good… She's good…," Alfred replied with a nod. He was looking straight ahead and his eyes never wavered to look over at me. "Her grades are going up…"

I nodded, but said nothing again.

"I moved her." I looked over with furrowed eyebrows, stopping suddenly. Alfred stopped as well, and then looked at me with a defeated expression. It was as if we had quickly had a feud and he was already giving up, or apologizing. "You don't understand, Arthur. Things were bad there. She had to leave that school. She's happier at this one."

"Of course I wouldn't understand. I wasn't told anything." I bit my lip to stop myself, but it was too late. My snappy comeback hurt Alfred.

He turned to look at his feet and sighed. "I deserved that…"

"I'm sorry," I whispered, but I don't think Alfred heard me.

"She joined GSA. She said she wants to be like you now. She's joined as an Ally and is rallying against Prop 13… Like you."

Somehow that did little to make me feel better. I didn't want Grace to be involved in politics or any of the sorts. I preferred her to being the carefree, dancing starlit of the stage. "What of her dancing?"

"She still does it," Alfred said. "Just… she does both. She likes it. She said it makes her understand us more…"

"That's…good…"

Alfred started to walk again, and I followed. "I was promoted. I'm captain now."

Again, I stopped and stared. "What…? But what of Antonio…?"

"He's sergeant now. It's good I was promoted. More stable hours, better pay."

Had we been better, I would have congratulated Alfred. Possibly hugged him and kissed his cheek. I wanted to. But this was my life now. I was only to be a spectator in Alfred and Grace's life. This was what I had chosen. And, like I had told Grace so long ago, it was better this way.

Alfred reached into his jacket's pocket and pulled out a small business card. He studied it briefly, and then held it out to me. "Take this."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just… We need help, Arthur. This will help us. Jaime recommended me to her."

"Counseling?" I asked. Alfred nodded. I wanted to laugh it off, but Alfred stopped me with that crushed expression.

"I'm not letting you go… One way or the other. If we're to stay friends…then fine… But I want you to be happy…"

I gulped, hoping for something wet in my mouth, but came up dry. I croaked, "I want…you to be happy too."

"I'm happy with you," Alfred started, but I shot a hand up to stop him.

"Don't. Don't put that on me."

"But... Okay. Sorry." Alfred stepped back, but he still held that card out to me. "We can't do this on our own. We tried and… We need help. I still…I do still love you. You may not think so, but I know I do. I know you do too. Why else would you leave those notes for Grace and always write at the bottom 'say hello to your father' or finish our grocery list? Why else would you… still fight for marriage equality…?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it. I didn't want to say anything more. I couldn't breathe. The tight and constricted feeling returned, and I had to get away. I was scared.

But I was more afraid of the sneak-peak of my future I had witnessed today; the outsider's view of a life I once lived. I wanted to watch Grace grow up, and I wanted to freely talk to Alfred and congratulate him, and I wanted to sleep beside him and push his hair behind his ear and kiss him and-

I took the card.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: I hope this chapter came out as well I wanted it to. This chapter means a lot to me, and went through several rewrites before I settled on an outcome I deemed good enough. Two chapters left. See you next week. Also, Hoyle Act 2 starts up this week. I hope to see you there.

(Prop 13 is fake and made-up, and by now the year is 2018 in the story, so from here on out, political and social issues are purely fictional.)


	6. Adult

It had been three months, but it felt longer. I wandered to and from work in a haze. Counseling had begun and it hadn't been fun. I yelled a lot and Alfred cried often. The stress was heavy on him. I always left never feeling satisfied with anything that had transpired during our sessions. I hated making Alfred cry. It was never fair because if he cried, I felt I had no right to do the same. So, I waited until I got to the hotel at night to collapse and cry, even if we didn't have counseling that day. It felt like the only way to relieve myself.

Our counselor asked to see us at one-on-one session as well. Those were almost harder on me. Ellie, our counselor, was a kind woman, but she was stern and had a fierce inability to approve of selfishness in a marriage. There was a hardly a time I didn't leave her office thinking I was selfish. However, she made me realize quite a few things about myself; things that I knew would greatly help in my relationship with Alfred. But, I was still so wounded that I never got up the courage to talk to him about it outside of counseling.

Three months was important. That was when Alfred left me flowers at the hotel front desk. It was when I realized we were both still in love, and yet we were both in such pain.

* * *

I had been in the hotel for six months now. Alfred's birthday had passed and fall was trying to push through the scorching summer with little success. I had agreed to join Alfred and Grace at the fire station for a birthday party. I had even bought Alfred a gift. Grace seemed happy to see us together, but it was hard on me. I watched from the sidelines as Alfred talked with his friends, but never smiled and never laughed. It was as if I were watching a robot that only had the face of Alfred.

Shortly after that, I tried to be happier, and to improve on the things Ellie had pointed out to me that would help ease the complications in our relationships. She suggested that I take more time to be by myself so that I could reminisce about my past actions without outside influence. It helped me come to some conclusions that I knew would help in the long run.

However, progress was slow. Alfred was willing to change, that much I could see, but he was tired. Every time I saw him I could clearly see his spirit breaking. Unlike me, he didn't have much free time to contemplate the situation. It was comforting to know that because he was captain now he didn't have to go into fires, but that wasn't always easy on his nerves. During a session he admitted that he was under great stress because his decisions determined if a man lived or died. With his annual mourning for Matthew, I could only imagine how scared he was of such a thing happening to another firefighter.

That was when the guilt began to weigh heavily on me. Alfred had lost his father shortly before my departure, and now controlled an entire fire house as well as care for our daughter and come to counseling once or twice a week. In comparison, I had it easy. That, in turn, made me resentful and angry towards myself. My happiness was short lived.

One night in mid-September I stumbled to the hotel emotionally drained from a one-on-one session with Ellie. Today's had been about my revelation about the guilt I had about my leaving Alfred during such a harsh time in his life. Needless to say, I was burnt out. I wondered how much longer I could endure.

Suddenly, there was a knocking at my door. I ignored it and curled my knees to my chest. If I closed my eyes, maybe it would go away. My head pounded until it was all I could focus on. The soft bed slipped away, and along with it went the little hope of happiness I could cling to. It started as a soft sob, but then became hysterics, and I covered my mouth as I cried into the pillow. A gnawing pain in the side ate away at reason, spreading guilt, regret, foolishness, and utter loneliness through-out my being. It seized me on all sides until I couldn't breathe. What felt like hours were only seconds as there came another knock on my door.

I moved the pillow from my face and shouted, "Go away! The sign says do not disturb!"

There was another knock. I jumped out of bed as rage boiled up at the intrusion. My solitude was being threatened. My self-deprecation would have to wait until I had privacy.

I flung open the door, ready to yell, but stopped when I saw Alfred. He was holding a bouquet of roses and dressed awfully nice. He'd even combed his hair and worn cologne. But he smiled nervously and fidgeted in a way that showed he was scared. I simmered instantly.

"A-Alfred?" I stammered.

"…Hi," he said softly.

"Hello… What are you doing here?" I glanced at the roses and his suit. "You look like you're ready to go on a date."

"Y-yeah… Hopefully… Um, but I bought you some flowers."

I took them and felt the first twitches of a smile lift the corners of my lips. "Oh… They are quite lovely, but I don't have a vase…"

Alfred pulled a glass vase from behind his back and smiled at me. He truly smiled. I saw a flicker of a light in his blue eyes that affected my heart. It fluttered.

"Oh…you clever boy." I smiled in return and took the vase. I moved to the bathroom just off of the door to get some water for the roses. Alfred hovered by the door, unsure if he should come in or not. "Well, who are you going to go on a date with?"

In truth, I knew it was me. Alfred was never good at surprises, but I liked to pretend he was. I enjoyed when he was playful and when I could slip into the same mindset. He wouldn't come to me with roses and then announce he was dating someone else. He wouldn't go to the trouble of couple's counseling only to give up when we'd made such progress. And yet, I still had that moment of horror at what could happen if he really was dating someone new.

I don't think I'd like that.

Alfred's happiness was of great value to me. If he was ready to move on from me to find someone who could handle his heart better, then who was I to be in the way? But, I learned these past months that I was done making my own happiness suffer so. I wanted to be happy too, and I knew with just one split-second thought of Alfred dating another that I would not let him go.

I still loved him, and he was still my husband in my heart.

"Um…you…if you'll have me, that is." I turned off the faucet and looked at Alfred seriously. He was pulling at his tie and watching me nervously. "I thought, maybe, ya know, dinner and a walk…"

I came over to help fix his tie. He had moved it out of place. He looked so handsome that I had to be closer, know for a fact he was right here and asking me out on a date again after fifteen years of there not being a date.

"Wait for me in the lobby so that I may shower and dress for the occasion. I shall be down shortly."

I will never forget how relieved and elated Alfred looked that night. For the first time in over a year I felt that I had actually done something of value.

We kept it light. We never talked about things concerning our relationship. Alfred asked about my speeches, but seeing as how I was a headliner activist for the anti-Prop 13 protests and for the pro-Prop 20 speeches, it wasn't anything he hadn't read or heard before. Still, he wanted to know. I asked about the firemen and about Grace. Her new school was much better for her. Ever since she had joined a club, she had found much more honest friends that were not disgusted by her parents and did not think their sexuality reflected on Grace.

I even heard she had a boyfriend.

"How did you take it?" I asked Alfred with a teasing tone. "Did you pull the shotgun on him?"

Alfred laughed. It was the first time that night, and my heart fluttered again. "I haven't met him yet. I plan on doing it and scaring the shit out of him. He ain't gettin' my little girl so easily."

I chuckled as I sipped at my wine. "Yes, well, I would like to meet this boy as well. He must pass the papa test."

Alfred smiled, and then put a hand on mine. I looked at the hand and then to him. He lowered his voice, "I'd like you to be there when she introduces him to us."

I could only nod. Suddenly my entire body had warmed to the very tip of my head. Alfred smiled more. I'm sure he noticed my blush.

He took me home after a brisk walk in the park. It was a crisp night and I had an early morning the next day. Also, I never liked Alfred being out late in case he didn't have a restful sleep from emergencies during the night. He escorted me all the way up to my room, and I was struck by how similar this ending was to our first real date. Back then, he looked at me in such a pathetic way that begged for a kiss, I gave in easily. Where was my gentlemanly hold on myself? I do not kiss on the first date.

But…

"This was good," Alfred commented. He kissed my knuckles and flashed a smile up at me. "Can we do it again…?"

"May we, it's may we, Alfred," I said automatically, effectively killing the romantic mood he was trying to drop on us.

Alfred chuckled. He straightened up and, instead of saying anything, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. He whispered by my ear, "You're still so cute…"

I stepped back, hitting my back against the door, as I put a hand to my chest. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. I began to cry. Alfred was startled and took a few steps back as well.

"I-I'm sorry! Did I scare you?! I didn't mean to!"

I shook my head, unable to speak once more. Oh, to hell with this, I thought. I want my happiness. I want to hold him. I want to kiss him. I want all of this to be over. He's been making all of the first moves in trying to repair us, and now I need to show him he's doing a stand up job.

I flung myself onto Alfred and held him tightly. It was what I needed more than anything then. I just wanted to feel Alfred hold me and for me to hold him. I needed to be so close to him I could feel his heart racing and hear him breathing near my ear. But, more than anything, I want him to feel it too. His body language had suggested all night long that he wanted to be close to me and to be reminded that I was still here. I was fighting for us too.

He sighed loudly and deflated. It was as if a small weight of the pain he shouldered had finally lifted. It wasn't much, but it was something, and I was glad I was able to give what he wanted. He shook as he held me tightly to his chest. There was a small hiccup of him crying, but I made no mention of it. He needed a quiet release here.

"I…I still love you," I whispered. His breath hitched. I gripped his suit tightly. "I do… I… I'm so sorry for…what I did to you… You did not deserve it…"

Alfred pulled away, shaking his head, and I could see his glasses were askew and he was crying, but he was still smiling. I don't think even he realized he was smiling so widely. "No. Let's not talk about this here. It's been a great night and I just… It's been perfect."

"Then…may we go on another date together?" I asked. "Tomorrow…?"

Alfred nodded vigorously. He wiped at my face. I must have cried a little too, but I did not care. Something finally felt good in this slum of a grey world.

We parted a short moment later. I fell against the door and clutched at my chest. I was smiling unabashedly. A tidal wave of ecstasy and elation overtook my body. My legs began to shake and I was even laughing. Outside of my door, however, I heard someone jumping and making soft yelps of joy. I peered through my peephole.

Alfred was dancing in the hallway. I laughed loudly, and he jumped, looking back at my door. He blushed, but I kept laughing.

"Go home, you git!"

Alfred stuck his tongue out at me, and then left. We deserved those precious moments to be so open together. It wasn't better just like that and I didn't feel we had made any significant headway, but we had moved forward. Now, Alfred knew he wasn't in this alone.

* * *

It had been a month after that when I invited Alfred back to the hotel room. Ellie saw an improvement in our sessions, much to her relief and our happiness. We were communicating better and left in higher spirits. When Alfred confessed to her that we'd begun dating again, she praised us for our efforts. It was truly uplifting to know that we weren't rushing into anything, but that we were making smart decisions to be adults and grow together.

Our sessions had decreased in number, but our dates had increased. Alfred began texting me during the day and I started back up my old tradition of visiting him at his job. The firefighters were pleased to see me again, even if a few were new faces or were still quite standoffish with me after our separation. Alfred now had an office. I complimented him on his accomplishments. When he was out to get me some water I noticed he had a picture of me on his desk next to a family photograph. I touched the photo of our family. Dad was still alive then.

The night Alfred came home with me, I fell onto the bed and opened myself to him. He was everywhere on me, his tongue and hands and teeth marking their territory once more and rediscovering those hidden places that made me gasp and moan. I kissed him hotly, gripping at his shoulders as he prepared me with a frenzied pace. There was no finesse in our sex. It had been almost two years since we had made love.

That is a sin.

He thrust into me like he was twenty again and this was our first time. I was loud, uncaring if anyone could hear my pleasure. We watched each other, keeping the light on as we moved together, and I fell in love all over again. He was so beautiful that night. It was like we had been reborn.

"I…love you…," he panted. He leaned down to kiss my lips sweetly.

I gave him another short kiss and whispered, "I love you too…"

After we had climaxed, Alfred rolled to the side and pulled me to his chest. I molded myself to his side. My orgasm pulsated around my entire being. How different it had been a month ago when I was overcome with such depression I couldn't stop crying. Now, I was filled with Alfred and he was here and we were together and things looked bright in our future.

But there were still things to fix.

"I should have told you more how much I loved you," I said after a time. "I took you for granted… If I had been less demanding of your attention and more…loving towards you and Grace, perhaps this could have been avoided. It's no wonder you suspected I had left you by my mistreatment of you. I should have told you… Should have been better…"

Alfred sat up in bed with a furrowed brow. "Hey now, what did Ellie say about blaming?"

I shook my head as a sob bubbled up in my throat. "But…it's true… You go to work and save lives and put your own in danger, and then go home and take care of our daughter and deal with your father's death and my abandonment alone, and then go to counseling to try and fix all of this."

Alfred pulled me to sitting. I thought he might slap me, and briefly I felt I needed it. I was bordering pathetic by this point.

"Listen, I can _handle_ it," he said sternly. I looked up at him with watery eyes, knowing full well I looked a right mess. He was smiling reassuringly. He had color back in that face of his and seemed like a strong man again. He had aged, yes, but he was still so beautiful and wonderful. "I really can. I'm a tough guy. I've got thick skin. Am I sad about you and dad? Yeah, of course. I love you two. But your leaving is so different from dad's death. And don't worry about Grace. She's strong too. We support each other. I at least have her. You're here alone. It's you I worry about."

I looked down at the bed sheets as I contemplated what I would say next. I recalled a time Ellie and I had talked during a session about when I stopped loving Alfred. It hadn't occurred to me that I had before I left, but Ellie was the one to point it out.

"I stopped loving you…," I admitted. "I…was in love with the idea of loving you. I…didn't want to say anything because I wanted to keep the status quo. I was scared of losing that. So I let it continue, I let you keep quiet and I let myself stay out of this because of that… I think…you were the same way… That's why you were convinced you were still in love with me when it all came to a head…"

Alfred dropped his hands to mine. I watched as his hands played with mine until I turned them over so we could entwine our fingers. I chuckled pitifully.

"Why do you love me…? I'm just…"

"Stop it," Alfred said sternly again. "I mean it. That isn't healthy. And don't compare. Ellie said it's detrimental to change. You can't compare how you're dealing with this situation to how I'm dealing. I know you feel regret over leaving and think you should have stayed for me and Grace, but you did what you felt was best. You had to leave. I don't blame you. It probably would have been worse had you stayed. You'd be in more pain and we'd argue more if you did. We couldn't have done that to our daughter, or each other. But…"

Alfred sighed. He pressed his face to my forehead. I could feel him breathing harder as he spoke. I think he was rattled by all I was saying. It was hard for us to take, but I knew we were making progress again.

"It was also my fault. I should have known… All that time I pushed you away…you never once thought I was cheating on you… You're better than me there… I jumped to conclusions and never just asked you. I guess I was like you said…just in love with the idea of loving you…because if I did love you, I'd trust you and I would have talked to you.

"That night when I came home and…all of your clothes were gone from the closet… That's when I knew I'd fight for you. That's when I told myself that I _did_ love you… because I would work my ass off to get all of those clothes back in the closet. I did take you for granted, Arthur. I expected you to be like…like my little wife… No, like a maid. To take care of us… And then I forced you out into situations you were uncomfortable with for my own satisfaction. So I could tell myself you were doing something, when you were doing something for us all along…"

I lifted my head and put our foreheads together. Alfred's face was twisted in such remorse and pain. He had his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. I closed my own eyes. In a way, I was trying to absorb some of that pain. Trying to suck it from his head right there, get those horrible ideas out of his head, and to meld them with my own destructive thoughts in an attempt to have them zap each other right out of existence.

"We have to change. This can't stay the same," I said. "We're different…better… Now we must think that way… I cannot take another day thinking I am ugly and worthless… I love you…"

Alfred opened his eyes. He cupped my face with his hands and looked into my eyes when I opened them. "You're as beautiful as the first day I saw you."

I frowned at this. "Alfred, that's horrible. I was in the hospital with two fractured legs and burns and bruises. How could you think that's beautiful?"

"What? Oh no!" Alfred chuckled. He kissed my nose quickly before continuing. "Not that day. That's the first day I met you. The first day I _saw_ you was the first day I knew who you were as a person. That you were kind and wonderful and smart and so beautiful, and I told myself there's no one else I want to be with. That's the first day I saw you…"

I didn't know what to say to that. I began to cry, but it was in happiness.

We would be okay.

"Come home," Alfred whispered as he kissed away my tears.

It took only a few more weeks to make sure everything was set in place. We said our farewells to Ellie and thanked her for all she had done. I paid off my huge hotel bill and made sure it was clean before leaving. We didn't tell Grace, but we did tell Nancy, my PR agent, and the fire station. Alfred came by the hotel one last night before I left to make love to me however I wanted, but it was me who pleasured him that night.

I came home the next morning before Grace woke up. Alfred made me tea while I put my clothes back in the closet.

Grace came out of her bedroom a short while later to see me and Alfred having tea at the kitchen table. We were talking casually with each other. She stopped short and burst into tears.

"Papa's home," Alfred said happily.

Grace rushed into my arms and I held her. Alfred joined us and put his arms around me and Grace in a tight squeeze. It had all changed. The pain was gone, replaced with a tentative hope that this would continue to stay wonderful. That we could stay a family. That love was really all we needed.

* * *

It was November now, and my birthday was only a few days away. Alfred had treated me like a Queen upon my return home, and I in turn treated him like my King. We were gentler towards one another and continued our dates every week. We resumed Taco Tuesdays with our daughter and tried to bring back board game nights, but sometimes we also played video games.

We were all closer in general. Alfred and Grace accompanied me to the final speech protest about Prop 13. It had come down to the wire, and yesterday was the final decision on whether or not it would go through. If it passed, same-sex marriage would be illegal. If it didn't pass, then there was a chance Prop 20 could pass and make same-sex legal. It was a late proposition that came into play in direct retaliation of Prop 13's arrival. I was more involved with Prop 13 protests that I hardly noticed anything about Prop 20 for the most part.

It was a quarter to five in the morning when my mobile rang. We jumped awake, thinking it was another emergency. It was Alfred's mother. Neither of us knew why she had called my phone, so I let Alfred answer. Perhaps we just hadn't heard her ring on his phone.

"Hello, mom?! Mom, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Alfred looked surprised after a moment. "Huh? The T.V.? Um, no. It's not even five here yet. Um, okay. I'll call you back then."

Alfred hung up and looked at my phone oddly. "She wants us to turn on CNN. I think something happened."

"Oh dear, I hope it's nothing horrible."

We both got out of bed quickly and rushed to the living room. I turned on the television and quickly changed the channel to CNN. Scenes of people celebrating in the streets of San Francisco and Los Angeles flashed on the screen, people waving the rainbow flag and same-sex couples kissing. Words at the bottom of the screen read that not only had Prop 13 been defeated, but that Prop 20 had passed. Same-sex marriage was now legal in California.

I had to sit. It was real. This was truly happening. We could be a legally recognized married couple now.

Alfred ran from the room. I continued to watch the screen, barely paying attention as the announcer's discussed the prop passing. I remember feeling numb that morning, as if everything we had endured had come to a head to this very moment.

Alfred came back into the room holding a box. He muted the T.V. and took my hand as he dropped to a knee before me. I was crying and he could barely speak, but he was persistent.

"I want to propose," he said. "So that you know it's real this time and there's nothing spontaneous. I really mean this. Arthur Kirkland, we have worked so hard to be together and I just… I… I forgot what I was going to say."

I started laughing. I wiped my tears and hugged Alfred to my chest. "Yes…just yes… I will marry you."

He climbed up onto the couch to hug me. We kept the television on mute as we lay on the couch. I wanted to just feel this moment last forever. I couldn't help but enjoy my life settling into place. Alfred was my husband, legally.

"We needed this…," Alfred murmured.

I could only nod. I couldn't wait to tell Grace. The first thing I did was take a picture of my ring and post it on twitter with the caption, "It's real this time. No one can take this away from us."

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: There is one chapter left. I hope you guys like what's to come. I apologize for not updating yesterday. I was at the Renaissance Faire a lot longer than I thought I'd be, and was unable to update. Better late than never, right? And thank you for all of the amazing reviews I've been getting. I appreciate it, even if I'm slow to reply.


	7. Goodbye

I sighed into the bed sheets as they enveloped me in a mixture of soft warmth and Alfred's strong arms. He pressed me flush to his chest as he always did when we kissed. We were in no hurry this morning. There was no one to see, no one to talk to, no one to please but ourselves. After two years of our relationship healing, I think we deserved a quiet day in.

It took us almost three months to arrange our wedding. Mum flew in and stayed in our room the two weeks we were away on our long overdue honeymoon. There were press, of course, and they covered the entirety of our wedding. Not surprisingly, my white tuxedo and Alfred's traditional black made headlines. I had many offers from some television stations to broadcast our wedding, of which I turned them all down. Amidst all of this turmoil, however, Grace took the center stage.

She had blossomed into a fully independent woman seemingly overnight as she worked to plan our wedding. Her dress was gorgeous, and I realized that she was no longer four years old. She was a real young lady. Mum took her out to get a perm and a make-over, so that when it was time for the actual wedding, Grace looked like a beautiful princess.

When I stopped staring at my daughter, I was admiring my "new" husband. Alfred aged well, and I thought him more handsome than ever. When we were young, he was vibrant and full of vigor, but then again, so was I. Now, especially after our separation, he had calmed down to a much more mature man.

That's not to say he isn't still obnoxious or loud, because he is, but I just don't see it as often. Of course, that could mean I've gotten used to his American antics. I've lived in America for over twenty years now, so there is a chance I've become fully integrated into American society. The horror.

I sighed once more as Alfred ran a hand down my spine. My fingers kneaded against his chest, reminding me that while he no longer had the defined muscles of a twenty year old, he was still very much in shape for a middle-aged man.

"Darling," I whispered when Alfred moved his lips to my neck. I shivered at his touch, still very much affected by our intimacy. "I fear I will always love you."

"Even when I'm old and wrinkly?" Alfred asked. His breath was hot against my skin.

"Yes," I replied.

"But what if your eyebrows grow so thick you can't see me anymore?"

"Oi!" I smacked Alfred's ass. "That's too far!"

Alfred laughed in my ear. He tangled our legs together and shifted up to my eye level. It was a true blessing that after our separation Alfred's blue eyes had returned to their bright color from before. I worried I had sucked it all away from him. The man was more resilient than I. Alfred noted that my eyes looked slightly different, and that the way I carried myself was in a much more reserved way than before. I didn't notice the change, but Alfred did. Often I would catch him watching me with an almost guilty look to his face.

"I'd still love you if your eyebrows really got that bad," he teased. I pinched his butt cheek in reply. "Violence on our first day of being empty nesters? Tsk tsk, Arthur."

It was strange to know that such an important person in our lives who had lived with us all of her life was now living on her own in the world. While I was living in a hotel for six months, Grace had decided she would become serious about her applications into college. Her involvement with the GSA club gave her more than enough community service, and combined with her already high grades, she was able to choose from numerous universities. In the end she chose Berkeley as it offered both art and theater for her dancing, and humanities. She wasn't out to save the world, but she wanted to do some good, saying "if both of my dads can do it, then so can I."

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since she had moved out. Alfred and I took time off from work to take a final trip to Disneyland with Grace, and then we made the 400 mile drive from L.A. up north to the Bay Area. We stayed the weekend in San Francisco, buying our daughter things for her dorm, new clothes, and an exquisite dinner her last night with us. We parted ways with her in the morning after a small breakfast. I was hardly able to eat considering I was crying the majority of the meal. Alfred was a great comfort, but I knew he was sad to see Grace spread her wings. It was bittersweet to be a parent sometimes.

"Papa," Grace had said as she hugged me tight. "I'll make you proud."

"Oh, poppet, you have every day since you were born, and you will every day after." I kissed her cheeks fondly. By now, she had started crying too.

How she had grown; my baby that once danced to Dora the Explorer and baked cookies with me was now a woman that was starting her independent life. She had developed into an attractive young lady, but she was not one to flaunt it. I had instilled good manners into her. That, and Alfred was a protective father. After Grace's first boyfriend, Adam, had met him, word got out that Grace's firefighting father threatened with an axe. They weren't completely off base, either.

Alfred was upset after Grace's leaving, but he didn't want to upset me any further. He worked to distract us. During the drive home we listened to old classics and sang along. We stopped often to eat and stretch our legs. Upon returning home, Alfred stripped me nude and made love to me. The sounds of our sex filled the entirety of the apartment. We had been unable to have such loud sex in years.

I could see the benefits of being an empty nester now.

I knew that by morning, Alfred wouldn't let me get dressed. So far, I'd been right. It was half-past noon and we'd already shagged twice. I swear, Alfred managed to make me feel young again every time he put his hands on me.

"I miss Grace," I mumbled.

Alfred pouted. "I'm not enough for you?"

"You provide love in a different way than her. I just hope she's doing all right. I worry…"

"Babe, she's fine." Alfred gave me a chaste kiss to my cheek. "She's in Berkeley and has two dads. She'll be the hit of the campus."

I chuckled. "Yes… I wonder how I'll finish my novel now."

"Your novel?"

I nodded. "Ever since Grace was born I've been working on it. Every chapter records an important event in her life, although the last chapters were more about us than her, but…"

Alfred propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at me. He didn't seem pleased by this news. "Wait, you're gonna release this book as in…everyone will read that we separated?"

"Well, that's just one part, darling." Alfred frowned more. "It doesn't matter anymore. We're married."

"It does matter, Arthur," Alfred said seriously. "It matters because that was a painful and personal time in our life. I don't want people knowing about that. I thought you liked privacy."

It was true. I was a very secretive man, but in all the years I had grown accustomed to talking in front of crowds about my love life. I guess part of that had chipped away. It was too invasive. When I had written _Hospital Flowers_ I made sure to not include the hard months where Alfred and I fought. Even writing about Matthew's death seemed too much, but Nancy and Alfred agreed it was crucial to explain the way our relationship formed.

At length, I said gently, "I understand. Then, I'll keep it for us. No one will you see it but you, all right?"

That lifted Alfred's spirits, and he smiled again. He lay down next to me and pulled me for a kiss. Then, he moved to peck my temple. He kept his mouth close to my ear as he whispered, "I love you. If there is a heaven, I want to find you. I want to spend eternity with you. A lifetime isn't enough."

I closed my eyes, knowing he would always be my beloved. Our family had grown gracefully and our bonds were tested in ways they should never have been, but we were still there. Still bare and close and promising romantic futures as we had when we were young.

I'll say this one final time: I love Alfred Kirkland-Jones.

* * *

The first thing I remember in my life is seeing my parents happy and in love. They danced in the kitchen in the evenings and kissed before breakfast every morning. They held hands and communicated without words. In turn, they lavished this love and care onto me, and I felt safe when both of my dads were around. I wanted a love like that, and to be as happy as them.

When people learn I have two fathers, they think I can't comprehend "true love" or that I will never grasp the concept of a "family". Why does family have to be defined by marriage? What about single families or families that, like mine, are unable to marry until further on? Just because I was "devoid" of a female figure in my childhood didn't equate to me "losing out" on anything.

If we're to look at the basic things a family should have then I had a home, loving parents, food in my belly every night, security, and a good education. All other details are subject to individual's own different experiences, mine included.

Media often romanticizes or whore-ifies homosexual relationships, but they forget the key ingredient: people. Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, asxeuals, pansexuals, transgenders/transsexuals, and all those in-between are still people. They still suffer heartbreak and experience joy and want happiness in their life. Being heterosexual didn't mean they were the only humans to have such feelings. I should know as I am heterosexual.

My dads didn't raise me to "fear" women or not "love" them like I would a man, nor did they push for me to be attracted to them either. In reality, my parents didn't talk about relationships in front of me, theirs especially. They encouraged my admiration of princesses, my fascination with other cultures, my love of dancing, and to be a nice and open person. Rather than tell me what I should like, they let me choose.

It's a shame so many people in this world hated my parents, especially my father, Arthur. They believe he poisoned me and other people with his liberal ideas, when in actuality my father was quite traditional and conservative. He believed in the nuclear family ideal and the close-knit love between neighbors and friends and family. And to hate my dad is just laughable given how many lives he's saved over the course of his career.

So how is it wrong of me to look up to and admire such honorable men?

I found this story my father had written of their marriage and my life when I was sorting through my father's files on his laptop. He needed a new computer, but didn't know how to transfer the files. I knew he'd be upset if I found the story, so I kept a file for myself to read later. Occasionally I would check to see if he wrote anymore, but he never did. It seemed he lost steam once my dad expressed he didn't want it published.

When my parents separated I knew very little of what had actually happened. Granted, my dad told me his fears before he was found out by my father, but that was only his side. I never knew how much pain they were in, and how much of it my father shouldered.

My father was not an open man, even to me. He was an expert at telling stories, and that trend continued into his speeches. They were always vague accounts of our family, enough to satisfy a person, but not enough to make them know anything important. Often I would hear him complaining while at dinner about how personal some interviews were. So it wasn't a surprise to me when I read he knew my dad was hiding something, but said nothing. I guess that's why my parents worked so well together.

My dad, Alfred, always seemed so outgoing and talkative, but no one _really_ listened to him. If they did, then they'd realize he never said anything about how he felt. It was more often than not about something casual. Like my father, he was a pro at hiding away.

When my father left, my dad broke down. He showed me all he had kept locked away. He was angry, hurt, scared, and heavy with guilt and regret. Even I had never seen my dad change from "daddy" to a human being. Every child has to see it at some point; that moment when their parents are suddenly vulnerable and bleed emotions. Being that I stayed with my dad during this ordeal, it was so much easier to see and empathize with his side. I became his best friend then. We were each other's confidences while we cried in shame and longing for my father to come home.

It was so easy to write my father off as some kind of emotionless whore the media loves to quickly label, but the issue wasn't so black and white. I knew he was hurt and that he hadn't cheated, but I didn't know the rest. And, it seems, my father didn't want to put all of that into his story either.

He left out how crude he had become to me and my dad. When he realized something was up, he started demanding things from my dad. He was bitter and cold, even when I knew my dad had made attempts to be warm to him. Then he started shutting me out, but I suppose I deserved that. I hadn't been the nicest to him either.

High school wasn't where my woes with bullies began, but it was where I broke, like my dad. I was done fighting, so I gave them what they wanted. I shoved my family away so I would be "normal". I said such horrible things about my parents behind their back, and it bled into my home life. Eventually, my dad's suspicions about my father affected my feelings for him, and most of my hatred for my social life was condensed all into blind loathing of my father. He didn't deserve that.

I had given up. I had to be better than who I was. My parents fought for each other and managed to renew their love. Through their strength and determination I was able to get back up and come out stronger. I knew I was better than those bullies.

If I hadn't been, I don't think my situation would have ever improved. I doubt my parents would have come back together if I hadn't been involved in the repairing process. Without everyone supporting each other, love would never have found its way back home.

My parents passed away only two months apart from each other. My father had been sick for months, and we all thought he'd be the first to go, however it was my dad who died first. I think the shock was what finished my father. They had been together for more than fifty years, and married for forty-eight. He couldn't imagine living without his husband for too long. But it was a good life. They were both in their late eighties, my father nearly ninety, and were able to see their grandchildren.

I raised my boys to know their grandparents. There was no shame that they had three grandfathers, two on my side and one from their father's. And the boys loved them. I still smile thinking about when they were young and how they'd ask if we'd drive down to Southern California to see them sometime. Towards the end of their life, I had moved my parents up from L.A. to live with me and my family in San Francisco. I think the sea air helped in some ways. I know they had many fond memories of this city.

My dad didn't want this public because he didn't want people to see they had separated, but I wish they had. I didn't want people to think my family was perfect. We had problems too. We were "normal", but we were different, and that can be a good thing. I wanted people to see what they had sacrificed to be together. Maybe then they can finally understand that through one crazy American and one stuffy Englishman I learned what true love is from their raising me to know the difference between the UK and England, to them throwing me a _quinceanera_, to understanding true joys of American baseball.

It's not just one way, but in a multitude of ways. It comes from loving your daughter or son, from loving your parents or siblings, from loving your neighbors and friends, and from loving your spouse, whomever they happen to be.

We Jones' stick together. I might have a different surname now, but I will always be a Kirkland-Jones. I am proud of my dads for who they were and who they always will be in my heart.

* * *

_Hoshiko2_'s cents: I hope you enjoyed this sequel to _Hospital Flowers_. I had this story in mind for months, and the end was especially hard for me. I knew I had to have the story published, obviously, but how. To have Grace in the end came to me in a burst of inspiration. Thank you for everything, and see you at the next story.


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